


Impact Velocity

by Kutaisi



Series: Integration AU stories [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brainwashing, But again in an unhealthy messed up way, Canon-Typical Violence, Conditioning, Dark, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Kidnapping, M/M, Manipulation, Minor Character Death, Stockholm Syndrome, but like in a messed up way, it ends with everyone happy, manipulation through culture and linguistics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:47:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24724048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kutaisi/pseuds/Kutaisi
Summary: Sequel to "Entry, Descent and Landing." Anakin and Rex are kidnapped and taken to Mandalore.AU set in Millberry_5'sIntegrationuniverse.
Relationships: CT-7567 | Rex & Anakin Skywalker, Jango Fett & Anakin Skywalker, Jango Fett & CT-7567 | Rex, Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & CT-7567 | Rex
Series: Integration AU stories [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1787599
Comments: 407
Kudos: 723
Collections: Integration: The Collection





	1. How Not to Introduce Your Child to Your New Partner

Rex wasn’t asleep. He knew it wouldn’t be a good idea. One of them had to stay alert and his general was currently incapacitated. He did hunch down and close his eyes, though. Just a few moments of rest, he told himself.

“Rex?”

“General?” Sure enough, it was General Skywalker who was staring at him. Rex pulled himself up. “I’m glad you’re awake, sir.”

“I was unconscious.” It wasn’t a question. “I don’t feel any aftereffects, so I guess it was the Force and not drugs.”

“That’s what Kenobi said when you were brought in.”

Anakin grimaced at the mention of his former Master, but otherwise ignored it. “We’re on a ship.”

“Yeah.” Rex looked around the small, narrow cell. It was clean, but there were no furnishings of any kind and both he and Skywalker were sat on the floor. Just outside the cell there were two heavily armed Mando guards. Both Rex and his general wore restraints on their wrists which kept the two men together connected to each and the wall with a glowing blue rope of energy. “As far as I know, they only captured the two of us.”

“And Obi-Wan.”

Rex decided not to comment on that. An argument definitely wouldn’t help things at this stage. “It was clearly a targeted attack. They must’ve known exactly where’d we be and that we wouldn’t have backup.”

General Skywalker nodded. “They had to have tracked us, but I don’t know how. I thought we disabled the internal systems on both fighters when we brought them aboard. That should’ve been enough.”

“You did.” A crisp Core accent interjected, surprising them both. “That doesn’t mean we couldn’t track you.”

It hit Rex suddenly. “A tracking fob.”

That was met with a sharp smile. “Indeed.” Kenobi was helmetless but otherwise clad in the blue and silver-tone armour he’d been wearing when they’d first caught him.

Rex shook his head. “I should’ve known. Damn Mandos.”

“He’s not Mandalorian!”

He did his best to ignore his disgruntled general. It still wasn’t the right time for that conversation. Instead, he directed his question to their captor. “What exactly do you plan on doing with us?” This time he deliberately left off a title or honorific. The Republic might not have officially stripped the man of his commission yet, but as far as Rex was concerned, Obi-Wan Kenobi had well and truly forfeited it. The Council could, with all due respect, shove their brainwashing theory. Rex knew a traitor when he saw one and, as much as he didn’t like to think about the scenario, he would have pulled the trigger on a brother himself for less, if necessary. It was true that he’d had some sympathy for Kenobi back on the _Resolute_ , though that was due more to Skywalker’s unprofessional behaviour than anything else, but it had all evaporated the moment their ship had been boarded by Mandalorian commandos.

Kenobi, for his part, retained his infuriating politeness. “I understand you have questions. Everything will be explained once we get to Keldabe.”

The capital city on Mandalore itself. That was the worst possible destination he could imagine. At least a military base or a border planet might have afforded some avenues of escape. Rex knew he was a goner, though he did allow himself to hope it would be a quick enough death after the ex-Jedi extracted whatever information he was looking for from his mind. That was the only reason he could come up with for why he’d been taken as well. He didn’t think his optimism was entirely unfounded because Kenobi may have betrayed the Republic and Rex felt justified in hating him for that, but the man didn’t seem evil exactly, not like the Sith they regularly encountered. It was General Skywalker he was really worried about. He didn’t know why the Mand’alor’s riduur would go to so much effort for one person, former apprentice or no, but it didn’t bode well. Skywalker was his friend as well as his commanding officer, however, so if Rex saw an opportunity to defend him while he still could, he’d do his best to take it.

Suddenly, there was movement behind the former Jedi and the Mando guards quickly stood at attention. A few words were exchanged and then both guards exited around the corner. Rex, who saw variations of his own face mirrored back at him countless times every day, shouldn’t have been shocked to see it here, especially considering who was holding him, but somehow knowing that this was the original, the reason Rex and his brothers existed at all, felt different. The ruler of the Mandalorian Empire wore gleaming beskar armour and an impressive set of weapons, but it was the helmet under the man’s arm that really caught his attention. Because it wasn’t the Mand’alor’s, it was Rex’s.

Fett’s attention was fully on the traitor. “So, this is where you ran off to.”

“I’d hardly say I ‘ran off,’” Kenobi said with an amused huff. “You were busy on the bridge and I wanted to check on our guests.”

Anakin vibrated angrily at that, but Rex shot him a warning glance and he did keep quiet. They needed to take the opportunity to learn what they could about their situation while they had the chance.

“You sure you’re not just trying to avoid a certain conversation?”

Kenobi sighed. “I didn’t think I’d be able to avoid it entirely, but I was hoping you’d be willing to wait until we got home.”

“No chance. You co-opted an operation without permission, putting your team and yourself at risk, against my express orders.”

“Not exactly. You said you would think about it.” Kenobi looked remarkably untroubled, Rex thought.

“Yeah, I was going to think about it and then say no.”

The ex-Jedi actually laughed. “I realise that. Why do you think I didn’t wait?”

Fett took a step closer to the other man. “I admit you were successful and somehow managed your crazy scheme without causalities, but you can’t disobey your alor and not expect a punishment.”

Instead of shrinking away, Kenobi leaned closer to Fett and brought a hand up to touch his cheek. “Hm, well, I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

That resulted in a growl and a shove that had the redhead flat against the wall just outside the cell and the older man pressed against him. It also caused the Mand’alor to drop Rex’s bucket. The captain flinched to see it bounce off the floor and then scoffed at himself. It’s not like Fett had brought it so he could return it to its rightful owner. Not that anything like that was on the Mandalorian leader’s mind in that moment. One of his hands kept his partner's wrists pinned to the wall and the other started out pressed to the other’s cuirass and slowly moved lower while Kenobi leaned in to whisper something in his ear.

Rex watched the whole scene unfold with horrified fascination, but it proved to be too much for Skywalker to handle because he made a sound like a cornered nexu and tried to scramble upwards. The restraints and Rex’s grip on his arm were enough to keep him down, though they were not enough to keep him silent. “We’re right here! Did you forget that?!”

The matching looks on the men’s faces told Rex that, yes, they had forgotten, which would’ve been funny if it weren’t for just about everything else.

The Mand’alor and Kenobi straightened up without comment, though, and looked over at their prisoners. Fett said something in Mando’a, but it was too quiet for Rex to hear. Kenobi simply nodded in return and turned to the control panel on the wall and pressed a few buttons. The barrier disappeared and Fett walked in. He stopped in front of his clone, and Rex didn’t need to have Jedi powers to feel the fury radiating off him. Would this be the end, then? He fought the urge to shut his eyes. No, he could go out bravely. But eventually Fett shook his head and turned toward Skywalker. He knelt down so he was at eye-level with the young general, but then he turned back to his riduur. “Anakin Kenobi?” He asked.

“Listen here, you sleemo—”

“No,” Kenobi said, cutting off his former apprentice. "It's Skywalker."

“Right. Ni kar'tayl gai sa'ad, Anakin Skywalker.”

Rex felt his mouth open involuntarily. Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that.

Just as abruptly, Fett stood up, ignoring Anakin’s confusion. When he was outside the cell and the barrier was back on, he once again spoke to Kenobi in Mando’a and Rex managed to catch a few words here and there, but the conversation seemed to be about logistics regarding the ship and the journey to Mandalore and wasn’t very illuminating.

When they finished, Fett turned toward the exit and began to beckon Kenobi to follow before stopping and glancing down at something on the floor. Rex’s helmet. He picked it up and looked at it for a minute before holding it out with the visor facing the prisoners. When he spoke, his voice sounded tight and full of tension. “Jaig eyes, huh?”

Rex stiffened. “Lek,” he managed.

“You do the paint job yourself?”

“Yes.” Rex frowned. Why would he care?

There was a pause that to Rex seem to stretch on for eons. Then the Mand’alor nodded, as if in response to something unspoken. “Not bad,” he said finally. Then they both left, and Rex’s bucket went along with them.

“I hate him,” Skywalker said with a scowl once they were gone again. Despite the inescapable genetic connection, Rex could appreciate the sentiment. “I think the feeling’s mutual, though. Hope that’s the last I see of that jerk.”

“Uh, sir…” Rex turned toward his general with a growing sense of dread.

“What?”

He took a deep breath. “I don’t think that’ll be possible. At least not until we find a way to escape.”

“Why? What do you mean? Rex. What the hell? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Anakin woke up in a windowless planetside room with a headache. That would be the sedatives. The guards on the Mando ship had brought them in at some point before they reached what he could only assume was Mandalore. They hadn’t had to threaten to get him to take them. It was far preferable to having Obi-Wan come back, anyway. Anakin had in turn ordered Rex to take the tablets as well, but now his captain was nowhere to be seen and that left him with a sick feeling that had nothing to do with the medicine.

He looked around the room. Because it was a room, not a cell. There was the bed that he noted had actual sheets and a blanket, a bedside table that held two datapads, a wardrobe and a door that he found led to a small ‘fresher. He tried the main door. It was, unsurprisingly, locked. He tried the Force on it and that didn’t work either. He banged on it for a few seconds but that got no response whatsoever. If there was anyone on the other side, they’d clearly been told to ignore him. He let out a frustrated sigh. What was he supposed to do then? The answer came quickly and, annoyingly, in his Master’s voice. Meditate. But he’d never been very good at it and his current black mood certainly wouldn’t help matters. So, he ended up sitting on the bed instead. He picked up both the datapads. One was password protected and he tossed it aside. The other wasn’t, but it had no holonet capabilities (of course) and no installed programmes except one for writing notes or journal entries. It did have a selection of books. Some were nonfiction and those were mostly about historical conflicts and starships. The rest were fiction of the light, escapist variety. He recognised several series he’d enjoyed when he was a Padawan. It was obvious that everything on that pad had been handpicked by Obi-Wan.

Although he momentarily considered hurling the thing against the wall as hard as he could manage, he didn’t. His childhood inclination to treat what few material possessions he had as precious had come back quickly, it seemed. Because he couldn’t think of anything better to do, he opened up a book about a particular model of fighter and began to read.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before there was a beeping sound at the door and it opened. It was already shut and Obi-Wan had walked inside before he could jump up and try to make a break for it. He settled on glaring instead. His former Master was carrying a tray of food and smiling at him. “Thought you might like some dinner.”

“Where’s Rex?”

“The captain is just fine, I assure you.”

Anakin tried not to let himself feel too much in the way of relief. While he didn’t think Obi-Wan was outright lying to him, he knew he shouldn’t trust anything he said. “Can I see him?”

Obi-Wan set the tray on the table. “Not now. At some point, hopefully soon, yes.”

“You really did join them, didn’t you? You’re really _with_ him?” Anakin asked through a clenched jaw as Obi-Wan moved closer to him. He moved back as far as he could and that was enough to get the Master who’d betrayed him to stop trying to get close.

“Yes, young one.”

That was enough to make his anger flare up again. “Tell him to take it back!”

“Sorry?”

“What Fett said to me on the ship. Make him take it back.”

“Ah, I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that. He couldn’t even if he wanted to.”

That didn’t even make sense. “He’s not— I’m not—”

Obi-Wan crouched down and reached and placed a hand on the younger man’s arm. Anakin wanted to shove him away but suddenly couldn’t. “Anakin, in the last few years I’ve come to realise that you’ve been my child since we took you away from your home when you were nine years old. Because I’m Jango’s mate, it’s proper for him to adopt you as well, but I have no doubt you’ll grow close once you get to know each other.”

At that, Anakin did pull away. “Get out.”

After a beat, Obi-Wan stood up and looked at him sadly. “It’ll all be okay, Anakin. I promise.” Then he left and the door’s lock engaged as soon as it shut.

There was a small part of Anakin, at war with the rest of him, that couldn’t help but find that last statement reassuring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lek - short form of 'yes' so basically the equivalent of 'yeah'  
> Ni kar'tayl gai sa'ad - I know your name as my child (adoption vow)


	2. How Not to Start Things Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have most of this written (thanks quarantine) but had some health issues that have now been resolved, so I should updating more regularly now. Thanks for reading <3

Obi-Wan carefully balanced the heavy tray he was carrying as he entered his quarters and frowned at what he saw. Jango was at his desk bent over his work exactly as Obi-Wan had left him before he’d gone to his meeting with the Minister of Agriculture and then to check on Anakin.

At the sound of the door opening, the Mand’alor looked up at his mate with a surprised expression. “I thought you rescheduled a class for this evening,” he said, his expression darkening slightly as he spoke.

“I did.” Obi-Wan sat the tray down on the table and walked over to his riduur. “But it looks like my hypothesis was correct. You didn’t have dinner.”

Jango indicated the datapads and holo projector in front of him and groaned in frustration. “You’re right, but it wasn’t intentional. This is taking longer than I thought.”

“The situation with the Sith has you worried.” Obi-Wan put a hand on Jango's shoulder. He could tell the muscles were tense just with a touch and wished they had time for a massage.

“I still can’t quite figure out their strategy. I’m worried we’re missing something, and I don’t think we should make a move until it’s clear.”

Obi-Wan didn’t have much to say that would be reassuring because he felt similarly. “I’ll take a look when I get back tonight, if you’d like, but for now please come and eat.” That got him his desired response and soon the two were sitting at their table sharing the spicy stewed vegetables they both favoured.

“So,” Jango said eventually, “how’s our kid doing?”

It gave Obi-Wan a slight thrill to hear Jango describe Anakin that way even if the overall circumstances left something to be desired. He wasn’t any less concerned about his former apprentice’s anger issues, but at least they were finally together again and in a place where Obi-Wan would be able to help him. “I’d say he’s as well as can be expected. I know interacting with me brings up complicated feelings for him.” Jango made a noncommittal sound but the expression he gave Obi-Wan was one of fondness, so he decided to continue. “I realise the integration plan I’ve worked out is not usual, even for a Force-user. Thank you for trusting me.”

“Of course I do. You know him best, after all, and I know you’ll work with the programme leaders as needed.”

Obi-Wan nodded and wondered if it would be a good time to bring up the other newest edition to the empire, but a quick brush with the Force was enough to tell him that it wasn’t. Jango was still radiating tension and over the past few years Obi-Wan had become adept at figuring out when and where to bring up difficult subjects with his mate. He decided instead to steer the conversation to the novel Jango had picked out for him a couple weeks prior and that he’d finally had time to start on. Apparently it was something of a Mandalorian classic, but a rather controversial one. “So, I made it through chapter 6 of _One Star Among Many_. What are your thoughts on Maysa going over her sister’s head and speaking directly to the governor about her concerns?”

As he predicted, they easily fell into a lively conversation. For Obi-Wan, who was still a little overwhelmed from the changes to their life, as positive as they were, just being in their quarters and discussing literature over a meal felt like a needed comfort. Unfortunately, it was far too brief because it wasn’t long before the alarm he’d set on his comm went off, though he made a point of shutting it off and replying to Jango’s last point. “I’m not saying that Fenn was in the wrong, exactly, but his actions were reckless at best and even at this point in the story it’s clear they’ll have far-reaching repercussions.” He paused and locked meaningfully down at the silent but still blinking comm unit. “Ah, I better get going. I’m cutting it close as it is.”

The slightly stormy expression on the Mand’alor’s face wasn’t unexpected. Nor was the terse tone he used. “I thought we agreed on no classes in the evening?”

Obi-Wan bite the inside of his cheek to stop from sighing audibly. “We did, but I feel like regularity is key, especially with this newest group of adults. Some of these students are really floundering with their Force abilities and that’s causing anxiety and other issues for a few of them. I just want to make sure I’m doing the best I can for them. I don’t think gaps in their class schedule will do them any favours at this point.” He hoped Jango wouldn’t feel the need to point out that the latest gap in classes was caused by Obi-Wan’s self-planned capture and imprisonment during what should have been a quick and easy mission. Thankfully, his mate simply held his gaze for a beat and then nodded.

“You don’t need to convince me you want to help your students, dear one,” Jango finally said with a half-smile. “All right, I’ll see you when you’re done, but after this no more classes at night.”

“Understood, 'Alor.” Obi-Wan infused the words with just the tiniest amount of sass, earning himself a swat on the arm but also an actual smile. He got up and stacked his dishes on the tray and then gathered his teaching materials before pausing for a quick kiss, which Jango returned with his usual possessive enthusiasm, and hurrying out the door.

The class went quickly. He was still finding his groove with this particular group of students, most of whom were young adults from places other than Mandalore proper. None of them had any experience with Obi-Wan as anything other than the Mand’alor’s riduur, an important figure in the government and one of the empire’s top military strategists. He found that made some aspects of teaching these occasionally reluctant Force users easier but some more difficult.

He was just about to wrap things up with his customary question and answer session when his comm went off. It was a text-only message informing him of a meeting with Jango and the other available members of the inner circle to begin immediately, so he dismissed the students and hurried out, leaving all but one datapad behind. He hoped and assumed this meant that Jango had made a breakthrough. He got another message, this one from Effao, stating that she was on her way to the meeting but would likely be a little late. As he made his way to the specified room, he let his thoughts drift back to Anakin. He hoped the younger man would try meditating and centring his thoughts during his time alone, though Obi-Wan knew better than to take that as a given. Anakin always had struggled with meditation and anything else that involved being calm, dating back to his earliest days in the Temple. Rex, on the other hand, had been almost too serene on their trip back to the capital, the implications of which made Obi-Wan uneasy but weren’t enough to distract him from the man’s obvious intelligence and loyalty.

Obi-Wan put aside those thoughts for later when he got to the meeting room and found Akkus, Suki and Threl already there. It was his first time seeing any of them since he’d returned and they greeted him respectfully, though he noticed Suki’s eyes on him as he sat down. He raised an eyebrow in a silent question, and she shrugged. “I see 'Alor was exaggerating when he said he was going to kill you.”

The former Jedi couldn’t help but laugh at that and his reaction seemed to please the Silonian, who gave him a thin smile in return. It had taken the two of them a while to get their senses of humour aligned, but he thought they finally had. “Well, who knows?” He eventually managed. “Maybe he just hasn’t got around to it yet.”

“What, and go back to doing all this by myself? Not worth it.” Jango’s voice, which was tinged with humour and not a hint of fatigue, though Obi-Wan knew he must be exhausted, echoed around the room.

Obi-Wan, who’d felt him arrive through the Force, just gave him an amused looked in response. He waited until the others finished their greetings and then glanced over at his mate. “If that’s settled then, and there’s no imminent execution to plan, perhaps we should begin?” Obi-Wan didn’t miss Akkus’ put-upon sigh and had to hide a smile.

Rex finished yet another set of press-ups and then rolled over his back, sweating and tired. He wasn’t sure of the time of day because the room— no, it was a cell— he was in had only one small window high up so that he wasn’t able to see out, but he guessed early morning. That would mean it had been the day before when he’d woken up from a drug-induced sleep. He’d had no contact with anyone since then, though at one point in the evening (he assumed) a slot in the door opened and a tray of food slid in.

Try as he might, he couldn’t make sense of the situation. He had awoken dressed in his blacks and stripped of all armour and weapons, of course, with a cuff on each wrist but the cell was unlike anything he’d ever seen. It had a real bed and a ‘fresher and was unequivocally the most space he’d ever had to himself. Rex had never really considered a living situation where he wasn’t surrounded by brothers. As a captain and the second in command of the 501st, he would have been able to secure a cabin to himself on their flagship, Skywalker had been clear about that, but it hadn’t appealed. He preferred to share with at least one other officer. Now, as a prisoner of war under circumstances that were downright baffling, being alone felt even worse.

Rex pulled himself off the floor and then took a quick sonic shower. He’d stripped down to his underpants to exercise because he only had the one change of clothes and after showering, he got dressed and put his boots on and sat on the bed. He wasn’t about to complain about the bizarrely comfortable environment because it beat being chained to a wall, which was how he had assumed he’d spend his last days, but there wasn’t much else to do to occupy the time. He already checked every inch of the space for any vulnerabilities that could aid in escape but found none. There was, for some reason, a locked and password protected datapad on the small table next to the bed that he could only assume was left there by mistake.

He didn’t have to wait long or invent something else to do, however, because only minutes after he’d put both boots on, the door slid open and an armed and helmeted Mandalorian guard holding a blaster pistol walked in while a second waited in the doorway. “Osik,” the first guard said with a glance back at his comrade. “The others weren’t joking.”

“Just hurry up,” the other replied.

“Right. Stand up.”

Rex obeyed. There was no point in fighting back at this point. No, his priority had to be surviving as long as he could in the hopes of being able to rescue his general, as much of a longshot as that was. The guard pressed several buttons on his right cuff and a blue band of energy appeared to attach his wrists together. Then he was unceremoniously dragged out the door by one elbow. He let his captors, the only other people he could see, march him down nondescript corridors until they ended up at a quartermaster’s that wasn’t much like what he was used to dealing with in the GAR. He was told to look through the available clothing and choose three sets. Aside from a few undercover missions, he didn’t have a lot of experience with civilian clothing, so he picked items that were relatively simple and looked to be conducive to moving and fighting. The guards then made him change and the other two outfits as well as his blacks promptly disappeared.

Their next destination proved to be a med centre. One of the guards stayed at the entrance and the other led him forward. The room was large and clearly designed to cater to many people at once, but at the moment it was nearly empty. Rex found himself walking through an open curtain to where a middle-aged human and a young Twi’lek were bent over a screen, apparently analysing some kind of medical chart. The guard had freed his wrists but was clearly intending to stay close.

“Ah, our patient has arrived. Please, take a seat,” the human medic said, indicating a nearby stool. Their tone and demeanour were nothing if not professional, but the Twi’lek looked positively shook. Rex could already tell he was going to get sick of reactions like that if the Mandalorians did intend on keeping him alive for any considerable length of time. “I’m Dr Kwei and this is Nolin. He’ll be assisting me.”

Rex sat and kept his gaze focused on the wall in front of him. He didn’t enjoy medical examinations even when the medics were brothers and these people were strangers, so it felt altogether more like being on Kamino.

“Alright, strip down. Just the top half,” the doctor ordered while half turning away to grab a medical device of some kind. He did as he was told and the examination wasn’t as bad as he’d feared, though the doctor did frown at a few of his answers to their questions.

At one point, Nolin looked down at a readout on the pad he held with surprise. “Doctor, look at this! His readings are well outside of normal.”

Dr Kwei took the pad but also turned to stare at their assistant. “Nolin!”

The Twi’lek blushed slightly and turned to Rex. “Uh, sorry. It’s just, because you look…” The words trailed off.

It took Rex a moment to catch on to the problem. “Oh. You were right. Rex. He/him/his. No harm done, kid.” Though he immediately regretted talking to the people holding him captive in such a familiar way, he had to admit that the young man’s relieved smile was kind of cute.

They continued with the exam until the doctor let him know he could get dressed then sent Nolwin off on somewhere with the completed medical reports. Rex wondered if that meant he should stand up, but he noticed Dr Kwei’s eyes on him. “What?”

“Your hair. It’s very short.”

His hair? Why would a doctor care about how he kept his hair? Then it hit him. “If you’re asking if the colour is natural, it is.” Little gods, these people were exhausting. He wished Cody were with him so they could joke about it. Or even General Skywalker. That thought caused a pang in his chest. He hoped his general was okay.

“I see. Then it’s—”

“A mutation. Yeah.” He bit his lip as an unbidden memory resurfaced. _As you can see, this one is defective and his preliminary test results are so-so at best._ _What do you want done with him?_ It may have been years, but the words from the Kaminii scientist to their supervisor still popped into his brain at the worst times. He couldn’t hold back a shudder.

The doctor simply regarded him for a few seconds and then nodded toward the guard who reactivated his wrist restraints and then pushed him toward the door where the other Mandalorian still stood.

Their next destination was another long corridor, but this time they stopped in front of a door with a window large enough to see through. He could see a number of people of various species sitting at tables and using datapads. It looked to be a classroom of some kind. What the kriff? One of the guards stayed and spoke to the person (a Theelin?) who came to the door while the other pulled Rex back against the wall. The conversation was in Mando’a and just loud enough for him to catch bits and pieces. He heard “took longer than expected,” “in the middle of a lesson” and “special case.”

Eventually something must have been decided because Rex was ordered forward and pushed inside. Once in, his cuffs were once again unattached, and he was directed toward an empty chair next to a Tholothian who looked at him curiously. The other students, if that’s what they were, didn’t seem as interested.

Once he was seated, the person who seemed to be in charge and was indeed Theelin turned to face them. “We have a new recruit joining us.” Then their attention turned to Rex, specifically. “I’m not sure how much has been explained to you so far, but you’ll be beginning your integration into the Mandalorian Empire. You’re joining a bit late, as you can see, but this group is still new, and I’ve been told you should be able to catch up. I’m Phas Wudo, she/her/hers. Please introduce yourself.”

Rex squeezed his eyes shut, which did little to stop the sudden ringing in his ears and the numb feeling that started in his hands but was quickly spreading throughout his body. He wasn’t sure he’d fully understood everything this Wudo person had said, but he got the gist. He found himself struggling to inhale. He’d sworn an oath, more than that, the underlining purpose of every part of his training from combat to strategy to etiquette had been to serve the Republic. Every word of what he’d just been told clashed horribly with every bit of his being, DNA be damned.

He clearly was taking too long to respond because Wudo cleared her throat. “I’m afraid you need to introduce yourself. Cooperation is in your best interest.” Rex ran through his options quickly. As abhorrent as he found the situation making a stand at this point wouldn’t do anything for his general, who was still his number one responsibility. Besides, he thought, as he glanced around at the room and it’s occupants, these people were no Longnecks, he should believe to survive long enough to formulate a reasonable escape plan.

“CT-7567, Captain—”

“Just name and pronouns,” the Theelin said, interrupting and giving him a rather stern look.

Rex blinked. He hadn’t meant it as any sort of rebellion or protest. He couldn’t remember any introductions to anyone other than vode that didn’t include, or consist solely of, his number and rank. “Rex. He/him/his.”

“Okay, let’s get back on track, shall we? Rex, just follow along as best you can because you don’t have a datapad set up yet.” She continued speaking, but Rex caught little of it because he was still reeling. Stay focused, he told himself. He could get through this. While he wasn’t yet sure what that would entail, he was sure he’d survived worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> riduur - spouse  
> osik - shit  
> vode - siblings
> 
> My original title for this chapter was such a terrible pun, so you're welcome :D


	3. How Not to Blend In

The next morning, after a night of fitful and intermittent sleep, Anakin stood and glared at his surroundings, resisting the urge to kick in the door of the wardrobe and upend all the other furniture that wasn’t bolted down. As much as he wouldn’t have minded wrecking the place, he couldn’t bear to see Obi-Wan act all superior and let down, just like he had in the past when his apprentice had lost his temper over little things. Anakin was aware he wasn’t perfect and during the years after his master’s disappearance he often felt regret about some of his past behaviours. It hadn’t been Obi-Wan’s fault that Anakin had been young and scared and mourning his mother. The newly knighted Jedi had done the best he could, and Anakin wished he’d realised that at the time. This situation, however, was different. It was Obi-Wan who was confused and misguided and Anakin who was in the right. He was sure of it, but he also knew he couldn’t afford to lose his temper and play into the other’s hands. He bit down on the inside of his lower lip in frustration. It was usually Rex who talked him down at times when he felt this way, but he had no idea where the other man was or even if he was okay. Not that he thought Obi-Wan would deliberately hurt his captain, but he couldn’t let himself forget that his master was just as much of a prisoner they were. Even if Obi-Wan didn’t realise it himself.

It wasn’t too long before the door opened without warning and two helmeted guards walked in. He could see two more just outside the entrance. The first one in said something to him in Mando’a but he didn’t recognise any of the words. He thought that was strange though. All the soldiers they’d encountered on the Mando ship had spoken Basic to them by default. When he didn’t answer, the person simply shrugged their shoulders before activating the energy restraints on Anakin's wrists and ordering him out into the hallway, this time using words he could understand.

As they walked, Anakin briefly considered using the Force and fighting back, but the overwhelming hope that he might get to see Rex or Obi-Wan again if he cooperated won out. He was confident he could get away from his guards if he tried, but he had no idea of the layout of the complex where he was being held and he doubted he’d get very far before they recaptured him. Most importantly, he didn’t want to do anything that might trigger that scumbag Fett to harm or punish either of the two people Anakin needed to protect at all cost.

So, he let himself be led with no resistance other than dirty looks and half-mumbled insults in Huttese that were completely ignored.

They ended up in a corridor that was nicer and wider than the one they’d taken him from, though not ornate to the level of the Republic Senate buildings. The guards wasted no time in pressing buttons on a door panel and unceremoniously pushing him inside before withdrawing completely. The space he found himself in was large and sunlit with high ceilings. It was clearly someone’s private quarters and the furnishings were of a simple style but obviously well-made. He didn’t focus too much on the room, however, because his eyes were immediately drawn to the desk where Obi-Wan was pouring over a datapad, a steaming cup of tea in one hand. His old master wasn’t wearing armour this time nor was he dressed like a Jedi, though there were echoes of that style in the dark red wrap tunic and wide sash he wore over practical grey leggings and embroidered leather boots.

Anakin knew that Obi-Wan would have sensed him the moment he got close, but the older man waited until he was finished whatever passage he was reading and then looked up. “Ah, good morning Anakin.”

Though Anakin had thought he was prepared to see Obi-Wan again, actually coming face to face with him in such a calm and domestic setting was disorienting at best and it took him a moment to come up with a retort. “Don’t act so surprised to see me, Master. You did have me dragged here by armed guards.”

The older man responded with a sigh and a hand beckoning him forward. “Why don't you come over here and I’ll free your wrists.”

He hesitated for just a moment before giving in and shuffling over. “Fine. Can you take me to see Rex today?”

“Not yet. You both need time to settle in.” Obi-Wan stood up and quickly deactivated the cuffs.

Anakin ground his teeth at the word choice. _Settle in._ Like they were at some sort of holiday resort. “It’s not the first time we've been taken prisoner. He can handle himself, but I’d still like to see him.”

Obi-Wan had made his way to the large table near the centre of the room and uncovered a platter of fruit, cheeses and spongy flat bread. “Anakin, you seem to be misunderstanding the situation. You and the captain both have places here in the empire. You’re both Mandalorian now, though I suppose Rex always has been, in a sense. The point is this is your home, which means the two of you will be going through integration programmes in order to fully become Mando’ade.”

“Like hell we will! You may be holding me captive right now, but my loyalty is to the Republic.” Anakin glared at the man who’d raised him and tried his best not to let his gaze wonder over to the plate of food. It was clear that Obi-Wan had taken what he remembered of Anakin’s preferences into account and somehow that was both infuriating and touching. Not to mention that he hadn’t eaten since the day before and was starting to feel hungry.

Obi-Wan simply sat down at the table and looked up at his former student. “I didn’t have you come here to argue. I thought we might have some breakfast and then you can take a shower after if you want.”

Anakin frowned and considered that. “It’ll just be… you here?” 

“Yes, just you and me. Jango’s busy today and won’t be back until the evening.” He smiled fondly. “Probably just in time for dinner.”

As unpleasant as it was to be reminded of the Mand’alor’s role in Obi-Wan’s life, Anakin couldn’t bring himself to rebel. As messed up as everything was, eating a meal with his master felt a little like the old days back on Coruscant. He knew he couldn’t let his guard down around this version of Obi-Wan, but simply eating together couldn’t hurt. “Is there caf?” He asked as he sat. “I’m not drinking your gross tea.”

“Of course there is.” Obi-Wan laughed and it at least sounded genuine. “I certainly didn’t think your views on beverages had changed any.”

They ate together as midmorning sun filtered in through the curtains and it almost felt normal and right. Obi-Wan asked about Anakin’s knighting and inquired about his friends and colleagues at the Temple and he sounded so sincere that the younger man couldn’t help but answer.

When they were done eating, Obi-Wan pushed the empty dishes aside and brought over a datapad so Anakin could set up an account that would allow him to access the pad in his room and to complete the so-called coursework that he would apparently be expected to do. As if. He was more than happy to no longer be a padawan and he had no desire to go back to that. 

“I brought you a couple changes of clothes and, if they fit, I can have more sent to your room,” Obi-Wan said after they'd finished creating the account and going over how to use it.

Whatever amount of goodwill Anakin was feeling suddenly melted away. “I think you mean my cell.”

“Anakin, it’s not a cell and it’s only temporary. You’re being housed in an integration facility for the time being.” He paused and looked away for a moment. “I would have preferred you to be closer, but it was important to Jango that you stay there for now.” Obi-Wan said it lightly, much in the way he used to complain about Vokara Che insisting he get medical checks, but it was too much for Aankin to take. 

“So you just do whatever he wants, is that it?” He asked, no longer able to hold back. He waited for a denial, but none came.

“He is the Mand’alor and I and everyone else in the empire have a duty to obey him,” Obi-Wan said and then quickly continued before Anakin had the chance to counter. “But believe it or not, he respects and listens to my opinions and I’m sure it’ll be the same with you once you two get to know each other.”

The thought of having that sort of rapport with Jango Fett was enough to make Anakin feel vaguely ill. He stood up abruptly. “I want to go now. I’ll shower back there in _“my room,”_ so call the guards or whatever.”

“Anakin…”

“I mean it. I’ve had enough.”

Obi-Wan just nodded, though he looked disappointed and Anakin had to stop himself from apologising. He had to stay strong. He’d find a way to rescue his master eventually.

Rex stared down at the tray in front of him. Logically he was aware of the importance of getting proper nutrition in order to eventually be able to pull off an escape, but he was struggling to force himself to eat. The rest of the strange class he’d been dropped into had gone by in a blur and he could barely recall what material had been covered. When it had finished, the guards had ordered all the prisoners to line up in the corridor and connected them together using their energy restraints. Then they’d marched the group to a large canteen that contained a decent amount of people of various species, many of whom wore _beskar’gam_ and carried weapons. That meant this area at least was a space shared with Mandalorian citizens. He’d need to do a better job of trying to memorise the layout of the complex on their way to their next destination, he thought as he picked up his fork.

“What is this shit? It doesn’t even have a flavour; it just burns your mouth.” The speaker was the same Tholothian he’d noticed in the classroom.

Rex looked up. He’d been surrounded by the others since joining them, but they’d all seemed content to ignore him. It hadn’t bothered him, but at the same time he recognised the strategic potential in getting to know at least one of his fellow captives. “It’s _tiingilar_ , and you better get used to spicy food.” Most of the people Rex had been taught by back on Kamino hadn’t been Mando’ade, though a few were. Nearly all the people employed to train the clones rejected the bland but nutrient rich food provided by the Longnecks and had supplies shipped in so they could prepare their own meals in the trainers’ housing facility. He had a vivid memory of sipping spiced broth across from one of the better instructors, an older Mirialan who recited tales of long-ago battles in her heavily accented Basic that was peppered with Mando’a words. Unlike Cody, Rex rarely felt the need to pour hot sauce over all his food, but he had to admit that there was something familiar and comforting about the dish in front of him, despite the situation and the foreign environment.

He was brought out of his reverie by an annoyed noise that came from the Tholothian. Who, judging from the accent, came from the Outer Rim, possibly Hutt space. “Thanks for the vocab lesson, pal, but it doesn’t magically make this edible.”

“Try it with that.” Rex pointed to the several soft pieces of bread tucked next to other person’s bowl of food. “And that,” he added, indicating a small container filled with a dark green paste. “It’s _sars’are_ , a mild mix of herbs.” He watched as his advice was taken.

“Yeah, okay, that helps.” The other said after a few bites. “Thanks. Rex, right?”

“Yeah.”

He got a nod in return. “I’m Cuzao Loman, he/him/his. You’re a clonetrooper from the Republic.””

It wasn’t a question, but it also wasn’t a secret so there was no point in denial. “Yes.”

“I was curious because a few days ago I got a good look at— well, whatever they call that leader of theirs.”

“The Mand’alor,” Rex put in, acutely aware of where that line of inquiry was headed. “It means “sole ruler.””

Loman nodded. “Right.”

“He’s the template for all the Republic’s clones,” Rex said before the other could ask his next question.

“But why? How? The Mandalorians and the Republic have been at war for centuries.”

The captain could only shrug. “Maybe you should ask him that.”

His new acquaintance laughed. “Good one! Maybe I will. That weirdness aside, it’s clear why they grabbed you. Most of us they got here seem to be fighters or skilled in adjacent fields. You’ll fit in.”

Rex hesitated. It wasn’t like he actually knew this person, but at the same time, Kenobi and Fett had to know Rex would attempt an escape. It wasn’t like it would be valuable intelligence if the Tholothian ended up being an informer. “And what about you? You’re happy with this… situation?”

“Oh, you mean their whole little “you’re a Mandalorian now” shtick? Can’t say I was thrilled, no. But it hasn’t been terrible and I’m not sure I want to find out what the result of a failed escape would be. Besides, I’d always wondered what school would be like. Turns out I’m not as bad at it as I thought.”

Rex went back to focusing on his meal, but Loman would make a comment here and there without expecting much of a response. Rex did learn that the other prisoners in this so-called integration programme had been on Manda’yaim for approximately three weeks as well as a few other bits of information. He managed to get through about half of the food before the guards returned and ordered them up.

They were marched back to the same room. This time the subject was Mandalorian culture and it was basic enough that none of the material presented by the Theelin instructor was new to Rex. He instead used the time to commit what he’d seen of the facility to memory.

The lesson lasted two hours with a brief break in the middle during which anyone who wanted was escorted to a public refresher. Rex went with the goal of seeing more of the corridors and ending cursing the fact that they all looked so similar. When the class finally finished, they were once again chained together and led away. This time, however, they were taken outside to a large arena-like space that, judging by the equipment along the edges and what looked to be an obstacle course off to one side, was used as a training area.

To Rex’s surprise, Loman groaned as they were released from their bonds. “Welcome to what they call basic combat training and I call the worst part of every day.”

“I thought you said most of you are fighters. Shouldn’t this be better than being stuck in class?”

“You’ll see.”

Soon enough, Rex did in fact see. Not at first, because minutes after the guards had the prisoners line up in barely acceptable rows, a middle-aged human with pale skin and short cropped dark hair that was just starting to go grey strode in. They were clad in armour but weren’t wearing a helmet and immediately started barking orders. The trainer soon had them paired off with instructions to practice a series of basic hand-to-hand combat moves. That went well enough, even after their teacher had them switch partners and try again. It was mostly beginner level stuff and from what Rex could tell nobody in their group was struggling.

It was after the trainer divided them up into groups of six and handed out brightly coloured numbered jerseys and told them to complete the obstacle course group by group that the trouble began. The first run through went decently. The trainer timed each group but otherwise didn’t interfere. Rex’s group went last and while watching the others, he noticed a few cases where the time could’ve been shaved down some if the teammates had worked together more, but it wasn’t like he really cared.

After every group had gone through once, the instructor informed them they’d do the course again, but this time he’d be deploying training droids that would shoot harmless energy bolts at them. Rex could see the others’ apprehension grow, but he couldn’t understand it. None of them seemed to be incapable or completely lacking the skills required and it was hardly a momentous task. It was the sort of training exercise that Rex and his batchmates had been doing by age four.

After the first group took their turn, his confusion melted away. It was an utter disaster. The course wasn’t all that big, and the students rushed in all at once, overwhelming each other. One tripped on another’s foot and was offered no help whatsoever and as they tried to pick themself up, they were “shot” by a droid. In the end, only three made it to completion and their time was abysmal. None of the following groups managed to do much better. In fact, not even one single trainee in the third group finished. Rex watched it all unfold with horror.

When the second to last group began the course, he tore his eyes away and instead turned to the others on his team. “We don’t have a lot of time, but if you want to do better than that,” he said with a derisive glance over his shoulder at the disaster going on behind them, “we have to use some strategy and, I can’t stress this enough, work together.”

“Who died and made you our leader?” A near-human with dark almost feather-like hair and yellowish-green eyes asked with a snarl.

“Cool it, Orne,” said a green skinned Twi’lek who then turned to face Rex. “I'm Ilsi, they/them/theirs. I'm a navigator not a soldier or a merc and I for one don’t want to botch this up again.”

A few of the others nodded. They were almost out of time so that had to be enough for Rex. “Right, so we can’t push in all at once. You’ve seen that doesn’t work. I’ll take point. Number 4, you’re next. Number 2, er, I mean Ilsi, you need to work on your upper body strength, so you go after 4 because they’re the strongest and should be able to help you get up the rope ladder quicker. Number 1, that's Orne, right? And number 6, you two are next. Loman will take up the rear and help with any stragglers, got it?” The trainer called for them to begin before Rex got anything more than nervous looks in response.

It didn’t go as badly as he feared. Number 1 slipped halfway through and was “killed” instantly, but everyone else made it to the finish. Their completion time was more than embarrassing by GAR standards, but it was better than all the others, so he’d take it. He also realised with a pang that he’d have to learn his teammates and the other students’ actual names as soon as possible. Of course he was only cooperating at all in order to bide his time and plan for an escape, and calling these people by numbers might make the most sense but he knew he couldn’t survive much more of it.

“Okay, now I want all of you to do the stretches we practiced yesterday and then run five laps around the track.” Their trainer called out to them once they were all more or less paying attention.

Rex turned to ask Loman to show him the stretches when a hand gripped his shoulder firmly. “Not you,” said the dark haired Mandalorian. After the rest of the class was far enough away, the trainer turned to him. “Rex, isn't it? What are your pronouns?”

He came to attention before he could stop himself. “He/him/his.”

“Good work back there.”

“Thank you, sir,” Rex said automatically and then felt shame and guilt flood through his body. His real, actual commanding officer and friend was being held captive, likely somewhere nearby.

The man kept his eyes trained on Rex’s face but at least he got the sense that man was looking at him and not just some strange facsimile of his ruler. “I’m Sergeant Georik Stal, he/him/his.”

Rex had never had the best sabacc face and some of the awkwardness he felt must have been obvious in his expression because Stal gave him a crooked smile. “You outrank me, don’t you?”

“Uh. No, sir.” Rex blinked. "I’m a prisoner. I don’t outrank anyone here.”

“Well, what about when you’re not here? What’s your rank then?”

There didn’t seem to be any other option but to answer. “Captain.”

“There we go. Alright, you can go catch up with the others.”

Rex did as he was told, though he could feel Stal’s eyes on him as he made his way to the track. The whole interaction had been odd. There’d been no spouting off about the glorious Mandalorian empire nor any bashing of the Republic. No comments on his status as a clone. He brushed it all aside. None of this was important, he reminded himself. He had to keep focused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beskar'gam - Mandalorian beskar armour  
> tiingilar - an extremely spicy Mandalorian casserole  
> sars'are - a condiment or dip made from a mix of herbs, seeds and spices. I made this up or, more accurately, blatantly ripped off za'atar


	4. How Not to Keep to Oneself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An all Rex chapter this time

It took Rex the better part of the first week to settle into a routine. Mentally, anyway. He didn’t have much choice about what he did or where he went and likely wouldn’t until he found a way to escape with his general. By the end of his third week, he felt he had a pretty good handle on things. He just hoped he could manage something before his captors realised that they wouldn’t be able to turn him.

He might just be biding his time, but he knew himself well enough to know that the best way to ensure his success was to treat the situation like a mission. When he did, it meant it didn’t feel all that different from his real life. It’s not like he had much say over what happened to him and his men in the GAR and though he knew the Mandalorians were his enemies, they weren’t the Sith or even the Kaminoans. He felt confident that even if they did decide to execute him, it would be as a soldier, a man, not a failed science experiment in a lab. That was something anyway.

After finishing his stretching exercises, he checked the checked the time on his pad and hurried into the ‘fresher for a shower. Then he changed quickly. Today they had Mando’a class and based on the work they’d been assigned, he assumed they’d be focusing on the script, something he was as much a beginner at as the others. Based on the pattern he’d noticed so far, they’d probably also be training with Sergeant Stal. They had at least one physical or combat based class a day, but they alternated subjects and instructors and they’d only had Stal a few other times after Rex’s first day. The successive classes had gone smoother and he’d done a much better job of not standing out. The only unusual thing, according to Loman, was that after Rex’s first class, they’d been told to split into the same groups as before. Nothing much came of it, however, and Rex didn’t feel like he was under any more scrutiny than the others. He’d been careful to keep his mouth shut and when Ilsi or one of the others asked for his advice, he tried to be as subtle as possible.

Their Mando’a lesson and lunch went by in a blur. Rex paid attention to what was happening around him just enough to avoid getting in trouble, but otherwise went over his tentative escape plans. He mentally reviewed what he’d been able to see of the complex where they were held and where they spent most of their time. Then he turned to his observations about the place’s security measures and his best guesses for how their guard rotations worked. He had just switched to going over what he knew about their supply deliveries and transport access points, when a hand gripped his shoulder. 

“Rex? C’mon.” Loman was standing next to him, so he stood up and joined the others as they lined up and were again chained together by their cuff restraints and led out of the canteen. It hadn’t escaped Rex’s notice that the members of his 'team' had begun to stick together most of the time. That was to be expected he supposed, since they were all captives in a strange environment, even if the others weren’t as desperate to get away.

They were led to a large and mostly empty room adjacent to some training facilities. They’d been there before, but never with Stal. The sergeant was there this time, however, alongside a few tables that held piles of gear. Rex spotted stacks of lightweight training armour and helmets as well as what had to be harmless practice rifles.

After their guards had removed their restraints and retreated to the sidelines, Stal motioned for them to gather around him. “Right, so we’re going to run team combat drills on a full course. The goal is to get through the course as a team as quickly as you can without losing anyone. You’ll also need to collect these flags, which will be distributed at three different points in the room.” He held up a brightly coloured square of cloth before continuing. “The bolts from your rifles will temporarily disable the training droids, but I’ll be observing and if one of them hits you, you’re out for the round. The winning group, the one with the best time and survival rate, gets to pick what you do for the second half of the class.”

As the instructor finished speaking, Orne met Rex’s eyes and mouthed ‘firing range’ at him and the captain had to immediately school his features. There was something about the capable but fiery young man that reminded him so much of Fives. Loman, who’d apparently also noticed Orne, rolled his eyes and quickly tried to hide a smile and Rex felt a sudden onslaught of sadness and longing for his brothers and for his home, as nebulous a concept as it was to clones.

All the students got in a queue to get their equipment and their group was at the back as Rex was in no hurry and the others tended to follow his lead. They’d only just got into line when he felt someone tug at his elbow. He turned to see a particularly nervous looking Ilsi. “What’s wrong?”

“You know I don’t do well at these things.” The Twi’lek’s eyes were wide.

“You’ve improved a lot, Ilsi. Just do your best.”

But they only shook their head. “I’m going to drag the whole team down.”

“Thinking like that doesn’t help.” He tried to speak loud enough that he’d sound confident and encouraging but quiet enough not to alert Stal. It was never a good idea to draw the attention of trainers in this kind of situation. “You’re a skilled navigator. You must be or they wouldn’t have taken you and you do well in all our other classes. Focus on doing better but don’t dwell on your areas of weakness.” He felt something tighten in his chest as he spoke because he was paraphrasing the many similar speeches Cody had given him when he was a nervous cadet.

“This training is just getting more intense. If I keep failing… well, they won’t just let me go, you know that.”

He rested one hand on the Twi’lek’s shoulder and squeezed lightly. “They won’t hurt you. You’re not a troublemaker.” He felt fairly certain that was true. Ilsi wasn’t actively scheming to escape and then kidnap the son of the Mand’alor like Rex was. At least that's how the Mandos would see it.

“Maybe not, but I’ll be enslaved and sent to a work colony.”

That was much more likely, he had to admit. He looked around and saw that Stal was nearby but seemingly absorbed in his datapad, so he inhaled and, against his better judgement, spoke the words his _ori’vod_ had always ended his pep talks with. “Listen to me, I won’t let them do that. No matter what, I’ll protect you, okay?” He knew that if it did come to that, he would be as unable to fulfil that promise as Cody would have been, but it seemed to work on Ilsi just as it had on Rex.

Then it was their turn to get kitted out and, when that was done, follow Stal into the large training room. It wasn’t unlike the ones on Kamino and as the sergeant had relayed some further information about how the course and the droid opponents worked, Rex started mentally going over the best the most efficient strategies for his team. Then Stal gave them some time to work on a plan in their groups.

“So, that’s how we’ll do it. Let’s review our positions one more time,” Rex said while the others listened. “I’ll be taking the lead with Midka.” He indicated the Esral'sa'Nikto in their group. Then Loman and Amila. Ilsi and Orne will take up the rear. Got it?” He would have liked to have Ilsi closer, but it would be safer at the back. Orne, for all his grousing, was quick and an excellent shot. He waited for their nods of acknowledgement and then checked that each one had their armour on right and could recite the plan.

He finished just as it was time to start. Stal chose the order this time and they were third. The first group did well enough. Everyone got through but their time wasn’t great. The second came in at about the same time but also lost two team members. Rex was starting to feel confident in their chances.

Then it was their turn. The course was much longer and more complicated than any they’d completed before. Nevertheless, they got off to a good start. It was definitely slower going than it would have been with a squad of troopers rather than a collection of pirates and mercenaries, but so far so good, he thought as he aimed and took out a droid before it could hit Midka. They’d got their flag and were at the ‘base’ where they were biding their time and taking out droids in an effort to clear the way for the others. Loman and Amila slid around a corner and into view, flag in hand. He was about to shout out to them in encouragement when a shriek rang out through the room. Ilsi, he thought with a pang. He wasn’t surprised, but he had been hoping they’d make it. Still, if Orne could get through with the flag then—

Before he could finish that thought, Orne too was in sight with the piece of cloth in his grip, but that couldn’t be right. Ilsi’s voice had come from too far away. He tossed his rifle aside and toward Orne and away from the relative safety of base, which would have been a fatal choice if the bolts had been live because he was hit once on the shoulder and another time on the hip. He ignored the bursts of pain and the confused shouts from his other teammates.

“Rex, what are you doing?” Orne asked when Rex grabbed his arm.

“I should be asking that! You were supposed to stick with Ilsi!” He bit his lip to avoid spouting the string of obscenities that immediately came to mind. “I know you couldn’t have been close when they got hit.”

Orne blinked his strange non-human eyes. “But the priority was—”

“The priority is always the unit! You can’t win battles if you can’t protect your _vode_.” No, that wasn’t the right word, but he was too angry to think straight. “I put you where I did because I thought you could handle it but clearly I was wrong.”

Orne’s face flushed with anger. “That’s not fair.”

“The hell it isn’t! A squad is only as strong as its weakest member, and right now that’s you, not Ilsi.”

“That’s enough.” The sound of Sergeant Stal’s stern voice prevented Orne from responding and also cut through the cloud emotions enveloping Rex. Suddenly he remembered where he was. What he was. He’d kriffed up. He shouldn’t have got as involved as he had. It was a mess Rex could have prevented if he’d just kept doing the minimum. These weren’t his brothers. He shouldn’t have tried to act like they were. He then shoved that thought away temporarily because Stal was looking at him with an unreadable expression. “Team 3, you’re disqualified. Go wait in the anteroom. I’ll deal with you when we’re done here.”

They did as they were told and sat with their backs against the wall, not speaking. There were two of their guards at the entrance, but they didn’t acknowledge Rex and the others at all. The other teams who had finished studiously ignored them as well. To his surprise Orne sat next to him though he didn’t so much as look at Rex.

Time seemed to stretch on, but Rex knew it hadn’t been all that long when Stal finished with the remaining two teams, declared the winner and instructed everyone but Rex’s group to line up with the guards in the corridor.

“Stand up,” Stal said to them once the others were out of the way.

They obeyed, and luckily Rex noticed just in time that Orne had opened his mouth to speak and was able to step in front of him. “Sir,” Rex said, meeting the sergeant’s eyes. “This was my fault. I was in charge.”

“Oh yeah?” The trainer looked amused. “I don’t remember making anyone a leader.”

 _Osik._ He was right, of course, but Rex pressed on. “No, but I put myself in that position and they were just following. So you should punish me, not them.”

There was a brief pause and the tension around them was almost palpable. “Alright then,” Stal said. “The rest of you are dismissed.”

“No! You can’t!” Orne lunged forward only to be pulled back forcibly by Midka and Ilsi working in tandem.

“Shut up,” Ilsi said, voice half a whisper, and to Rex’s surprise and relief, Orne hesitated for just a moment before doing just that and letting the others pull him out to the hallway to join the rest in the flight simulators, which was the activity the winning team had chosen.

Rex stood quietly at attention while he waited for Stal to inform him of his punishment. He tried not to be nervous, because if the sergeant had a cruel streak he’d certainly managed to hide it well so far, and nothing Rex had learnt prior to or during his imprisonment had pointed to the Mandalorian Empire going in for torture for torture’s sake. No, he thought he was probably in for a beating and maybe a few days in a cell without food. Nothing he couldn’t handle. Still, he wished the man would get on with it instead of just standing and looking at him.

“Sir?” He finally prompted.

“Ah yes, I guess we should get started.

“Get… started?”

Stal nodded and pointed to the tables off to one side that were covered with the equipment the class had used. “Yep, I prefer to sort through that stuff myself and put it in the right bins for the cleaning droids. If I let them do it all, things tend to get mixed up.”

“I see,” Rex said, though he did not, in fact, see.

“It’ll go faster with you helping.” Stal went over to the tables and started pulling out wheeled bins from underneath them. “We need to check that all the training rifles are still in working order. Especially the ones that got thrown around,” he added with a quirk of his lips.

Rex felt like a four year old cadet again. “Uh, yeah, sorry about that.”

“Just don’t make a habit of it. They don’t let me requisition new equipment that often.” Then Stal laughed. “Although,” the older man said, “if we dyed your hair, got you some convincing armour and took you to the quartermaster, I doubt they’d say no to anything you asked for.”

Rex turned to look at him in horror.

“Ah, that was just a joke, son.” Stal patted his arm lightly. “Why don’t you start by gathering any pieces that didn’t make it to the tables.”

The situation was still more baffling than anything else, but Rex nodded. “Okay, I see a knee guard and a bucket over in that corner.”

“Bucket?”

“Um, I mean _buy'ce_.” Rex corrected hurriedly.

“But the Basic term is ‘helmet,’ no?”

Rex looked away. “Yeah, it’s clone slang.”

“Oh, then it comes from Mando’a. _Buyca_.”

“I suppose so.” He went to get the abandoned gear as quickly as possible and when he got back, Stal had already begun to sort the armour into the bins by type. Rex joined him without making eye contact.

“Well, tell me more.”

Rex looked up, puzzled. “More what?”

“Slang words. You must have more than that.”

Because it seemed pointless to resist such a silly request, Rex complied. By the time they finished, Stal knew the GAR terms for rifle, romantic partner, rations and a handful of others. The Mandalorian had questions about each word and had Rex give him examples and even encouraged him to tell some relevant anecdotes.

Then they switched over to the practice weapons and Rex listened to Stal’s stories of his early campaigns led by the previous Mand’alor and Fett’s _buir_ , Jaster Mereel. Mereel, according to Stal, had been a just and easy-going leader who’d been tragically betrayed by a member of his own inner circle. Rex knew that most of what he was being told had to be exaggerated propaganda, but it made enjoyable listening all the same.

Checking the guns was more tedious and took longer than the armour and when they finally finished, Stal looked at a chrono. “Ah, well, we’re done here, but it looks like you’ve missed dinner.”

He nodded. He’d assumed as much.

“Come on, then.”

“Sir?”

“You’ll eat with me in my office. I brought more than enough for two.”

Rex could only stare. “But the guards—”

“There’ll be one or two outside. I’ll let them know that I’ll take you back to your quarters when we’re done.”

So Rex followed him out, feeling more confused than anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ori'vod - big sibling, older sibling, special friend  
> vode - brothers, sisters, siblings  
> osik - shit  
> buy'ce - helmet  
> buyca - bucket  
> buir - parent


	5. How Not to Win Friends and Influence People

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Next chapter up very soon.

Days passed without Anakin seeing Obi-Wan. After the first few, he started to think maybe his former master was punishing him for the way he’d demanded to leave after their breakfast together. He didn’t remember Obi-Wan being that petty and vindictive when he was Anakin’s teacher, but perhaps that was just another way in which he had been changed by his Mandalorian captors.

It wasn’t like he was completely ignored. Food was delivered at mealtimes and the datapad with his ‘coursework’ regularly beeped alerts at him and reminded him of the lessons he was supposed to complete and that he continued to brush off. 

On the third day, the same two guards that had taken him to Obi-Wan’s apartment reappeared at his door and ordered him out, but instead of taking him back there like he’d hoped, they instead took him to a training salle, ushered him inside and then withdrew to the corridor. There wasn’t much in the room besides some folded up mats and a collection of wooden practice swords, so he picked up one of the latter and ran through katas for an hour. He had to admit it felt good and certainly beat sitting in that room all day. When the guards came back in to get him, he was in the closest thing to a good mood that he could remember since they’d been captured.

Then another day passed with no sign of Obi-Wan.

The day after that, the guards returned at the same time as before, presumably to take him back to the training salle. This time he didn’t get up when the door opened. He had to get answers and he intended to do just that. 

It wasn’t even mid-day and yet Jango felt restless and unsettled. He had chosen to work in the office he still thought of as his buir’s. The thought of spending long hours in their room when his mate wasn’t there did not appeal.

The continuing negotiations for a new ceasefire with the Sith were as rocky as ever and he had a lot more work to get through before a meeting with his most trusted advisors that evening, but he wasn’t in the mood and he was having trouble focusing. His relief at the distraction provided by his beeping comm quickly vanished when he saw who was calling, however. Aecai was one of the guards assigned to Skywalker.

“What is it?” He asked, shortly.

“Um, ‘Alor. Sorry to bother you, but it’s your ad. He’s, uh, _asking_ for the ‘alor’riduur. Says he wants to see him. When we told him he isn’t available, he asked to see you. We thought we should at least comm.”

Jango knew he didn’t have the time to spare, but the opportunity was too good to pass up. “Bring him to me. I’m in the office in the old wing.”

A little while later, the door chimed and when he opened it he found himself facing an irate looking young man and two helmeted guards. “Thanks, Aecai and Kian. You can wait out here.” He decided the cuffs should probably stay on this time.

“Where’s Obi-Wan?” Skywalker asked as he pushed past Jango into the room and the Mand’alor had to take a moment to appreciate just how different his demeanour was compared to what Obi-Wan had been like, even early on. Jango had been thoroughly warned, but it was still a bit of a surprise to see it up close.

“Not here, as you can see. Sit down and we can talk.”

“I don’t want to talk! I want to know where my master is.”

“He’s in Sundari.” Jango manged to control his visceral reaction to Anakin’s use of that title as he sat back down behind the desk and ran his hands over its smooth surface. It and the rest of the room’s furniture were made of dark, heavy wood from one of Manda’yaim’s many forests and were far more to Jaster’s tastes than his own, but he couldn’t bear the thought of redecorating the space. 

After a few awkward seconds, Skywalker did as well. Anakin, he reminded himself. He had to start thinking of him that way. “Why?” The kid was still suspicious but there was an edge of uncertainty in his voice.

“There's a regional agricultural summit happening now and he’s there representing the central government. Normally we’d go together, but it’s not a good idea for me to be away from Keldabe just now.”

Anakin glowered at him. “So, you made Obi-Wan go.”

“Hardly. It was entirely his idea. Personally, I thought we should skip it altogether, but he insisted it wouldn’t be fair to the governors and people there. That we shouldn't neglect them just because of the war.”

“That does sound like Obi-Wan,” Anakin admitted after a beat.

“His tendency to put others first is an admirably one, but he can over overdo it.”

The young ex-Jedi snorted. “Tell me about it.” Then his expression soured. “That’s how he ended up… How _we_ ended up in this mess.”

Jango didn’t have to be Force sensitive to pick up on the anger that Obi-Wan was so concerned about. “How about you give Obi-Wan a call? Would that make you feel better?”

“You’d let me— I could do that?”

The Mand’alor nodded as he slid his commlink across the desk. “Why not? Here, the right frequency is already pre-programmed, so all you have to do is press that button.”

Anakin found a way to handle the thing in his cuffed hands, and it didn’t take long before Obi-Wan’s voice rang out through the room. “Cyare? Is everything alright? I’m in the middle of a meeting.”

“Master, it’s me.”

“Anakin?”

Anakin gave Jango a wary look before turning his attention back to the comm. “Yeah. I’m, uh, with Fett. I was worried about you. You just disappeared.”

“I apologise for that. The travel arrangements were made somewhat last minute.”

“Oh. Well, I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Of course I am. I’ll be back tomorrow evening and I promise I’ll come see you as soon as I can.”

That got a nod, though only Jango could see it.

“And please start doing your coursework. I’m aware you’re behind on it.”

Jango had to hide a smile at the face Anakin made at that.

“Fine, whatever.”

“Good, now please give the comm to Jango.”

Anakin hesitated, but he eventually handed it over with a scowl that was quickly becoming familiar. No, Anakin Skywalker wasn’t all that much like Jango’s riduur.

Obi-Wan and Jango exchange a few words in Mando’a while Anakin very pointedly looked away, no doubt bothered by the flirtatious tone. By the time Jango disconnected and switched off the commlink, Anakin was already at the door.

“Ready to go?” Jango couldn’t help the small amount of amusement that had crept into his voice.

“Yeah.” The reply was sullen but there wasn’t much heat behind it.

After telling the guards to take Anakin back to his room, Jango paused for a moment before getting back to his work. He trusted Obi-Wan and he in no way doubted his plan for their ad, but he’d have been lying if he’d said he completely understood it. Now he did.

Not for the first time, Jango Fett, sole ruler of the Mandalorian Empire, congratulated himself on his choice of mate.

Rex frowned down at the three small pastries on his lunch tray. There were two more than there had been a moment ago when he’d stood up to get caf. After the incident on the training course and the training sergeant’s utterly baffling response to it, he decided the best and only reasonable course of action was to distance himself from the other captives. It was clear that nothing good would come from continuing to interact with them more than necessary. Unfortunately, it was proving to be easier said than done.

Not even one of the other members of his ‘team’ had believed him when he reported what had happened after they left, and he couldn’t even blame them. He doubted he’d have believed him in their positions either. It also didn’t help his efforts that they seemed to think he was pushing them away in response to something the Mandos did to him.

“You should eat,” Ilsi said, cutting through his thoughts. Rex noticed with little surprise that their tray was conspicuously missing a pastry. He suspected Orne’s was as well.

Before he could think of a reply, Cuzao Loman also apparently felt the need to cut in. “Ilsi’s right. You need to keep your strength up.”

Rex looked up and found himself faced with several concerned faces. It was clear that he would have to do something more drastic, but he’d have to wait for the right time, so he simply sighed and begun to eat the porridge in front of him to the visible relief of his teammates.

It was at dinner, after a hand to hand combat class with a Twi’lek instructor who thankfully never showed any interest in singling out Rex, that he decided to make his next move. After they were released from their restraints in the mess hall, he made sure he was behind the others in the queue and once he got his food he headed to the opposite direction of the group until he found an empty seat between a human who looked preoccupied with their meal and a surly-looking Devaronian. Neither so much a spared him a glance, which was just what he wanted. He couldn’t help but feel a little bad, but there wasn’t much he could do. The others weren’t his responsibility. He had to find a way to get to his general and then eventually back to his brothers and the Republic. That was the only thing he could afford to focus on.

He didn’t get to take more than a few bites, however, before a hand grabbed his shoulder. He didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. “Orne, go back and finish your dinner.”

“Rex? Come back and sit with us.”

“I can sit where I want. Now go back to the others before the guards notice.”

The near-human’s face contorted in anger. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m just trying to eat. Let go.” Rex pulled away from the other’s grasp as forcibly as he could in his seated position and he did manage to free himself but as a result, Orne was shoved back into the person on Rex’s left. The reaction of the offended party was swift, as the Devaronian growled as he stood up.

Rex bit back a curse and wedged his body between Orne and the much bulkier being. “Look, those guards are watching us. We’ll all three end up in recon— in remedial.” Rex thought that the Devaronian had already been sent there once so far and, sure enough, they glanced nervously over at the Mando guards and sat back down.

Orne was still glaring at Rex, but he backed up a couple steps. “Fine,” he said as he turned around, and Rex had to shove away the sudden wave of guilt. He didn’t think the rest of them would try an active confrontation like Orne had, so he was probably in the clear. It was for the best, he told himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anakin over here like, "I demand to speak to the manager of Mandalore"


	6. How Not to Try Out a New Career

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for references to vague but sad past clone stuff. I feel the need to warn for this because I forgot it was there and made myself sad

Like he did every morning, Rex stepped out of his room and let the guards attached him to the line of prisoners. As usual, Loman was ahead of him in line because his room was next door.

“You all right? You’re looking kinda rough.”

“I’m fine.” In the two days since he had actively started distancing himself from the group, he’d barely interacted with any of them except the Tholothian, who seemed to be neither offended nor particularly surprised by Rex’s actions.

Then they were moving. Walking down the now-familiar corridor and stopping here and there to pick up other prisoners. Loman continued speaking in a hushed tone. They weren’t supposed to be talking, but the guards tended to overlock it if it wasn’t overly disruptive. “You know, I’m not telling you what to do, but I’m worried about Orne.”

“If he doesn’t watch it, his temper’s going to get him in trouble,” Rex agreed. Because it was true and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t worried too, but that was simply a holdover from his command training and his experiences in the 501st. He had to push past it.

“Then there’s Ilsi, whose main problem is confidence, but if anything, I’d say it’s getting worse.”

“Loman…”

They had stopped in front of the last room belong to a member of their class and Loman twisted his head back far enough to look at Rex. “I told you to call me Cuzao. I don’t call you CT- whatever, do I?”

A guard stepped closer and ordered them to be quiet before Rex could manage a reply. Then they were on their way again.

At breakfast Rex was left alone just like he’d wanted, but though he was glad for that, the time seemed to stretch on unbearably and it was almost a relief to sit and listen to Phas Wudo talk about Mandalorian culture for a couple hours. After that, they had Mando’a and a different instructor, though they remained in the same room. They waited for their language teacher and Rex did his best to ignore Loman’s scrutiny. The Tholothian’s assigned seat was next to his and therefore impossible to avoid. Orne, for his part, had refused to make eye contact with him anytime they were close.

Then one of the guards at door suddenly stepped forward and approached their table then motioned at Rex. “You,” the Mando said. “Get up, you’re coming with us.”

There was no point in fighting it, of course, so Rex stood. It would definitely be more embarrassing to be dragged out of his seat. As he got up and let the guards cuff him, he couldn’t help but notice that the mix of relief, guilt and fear on Loman’s face. It was an expression Rex knew well and for just a second the dark panelling of the room shifted to the bright backlit walls of Kamino and he couldn’t help but feel the familiar terror and think of a few buried but unforgotten names and designations, all with the same face.

_CT- 7567 wasn’t close to that particular batchmate. The cadet was obstinate and annoying and, 7567 had to admit, a detriment to the squad, but as he watched the young clone be escorted away for the last time, followed by the sneers of the dissatisfied trainer, he knew that the grief and horror he felt wouldn’t just evaporate. That he’d have to push those feelings away in order to keep going._

The present came back to him suddenly as he was shoved toward the door. He couldn’t think of anything he’d done that could have merited such a sudden removal from class. He’d been careful not write down any of his escape plans and hadn’t even hinted at anything verbally except to Loman that first day. No, the cause was likely entirely out of his control, which somehow seemed worse. He’d suspected from the beginning that it was Kenobi who was keeping him alive, so maybe the ex-Jedi had lost interest in him. Or perhaps the Mand’alor had got fed up and overrode the wishes of his riduur. It didn’t matter much. The end result, whether death or an actual cell, would be the same for Rex either way.

His captors, however, didn’t take him deeper into the complex or in the direction where Rex assumed the government buildings were. Instead they ended up at the edge of a walled in training field Rex had been in before during a few of their classes. The field was empty save for a small group of armoured Mandos who were standing in a small group and talking amongst themselves. A few of them he recognised as occasional instructors, but the most familiar by far was Sergeant Stal.

Despite himself, Rex was somewhat comforted the man’s presence. He knew the Mandalorian was his enemy and that, at best, Stal thought of him as a candidate for integration. Yet even after witnessing a spectacular leadership failure, he’d given him hoi broth, dumplings and shig when he easily could’ve sent him back to his room hungry. When Rex’s own trainers back on Kamino surely would have in the same circumstances.

“Ah, there you are,” Stal said as he broke away from the group and walked over to them. “Thank you, I’ll take it from here,” he added with a nod to the guards before turning to Rex. “How about we go to my office? It’s right around the corner.”

Rex trailed behind the man in utter confusion. Stal had deactivated his restraints just as he’d kept him uncuffed the last time they’d been alone together. It wasn’t necessarily a shocking display of trust, because while Rex had certainly considered trying to overpower the man and get away, he was unarmed and there were guards posted all over. He wouldn’t get far even if he did manage it, so just he followed Stal, not quite trusting himself to speak until they were in the sanctuary of the sergeant’s small office. “Sir, what’s going on?” He finally asked when they were inside.

“Your recent Mando’a assessments indicate you’re at or near native speaker level, so I was given permission for you to spend your language lesson periods assisting me,” Stal said once they were seated.

They currently had Mando’a every day for two hours because the time devoted to it had recently increased. “Speaking, maybe, but I can’t read or write.” Though to be honest, he was making quick progress with that as well and aurebesh was used as the standard script throughout the empire anyway.

“You’ll continue with that part of the coursework in your free time and I don’t think it should be too much for you. If it is, let me know.”

It still didn’t quite make sense. Surely Stal didn’t need him to do menial chores for hours a day? Although, he couldn’t say he minded the idea. It beat being stuck in a class that was mostly way below his skill level. It might even allow him to see more of the complex and get further with his plans. “Understood, but—”

“Before we do anything else, I think we should discuss this falling out you had with your traat'aliit.” Stal’s voice was firm but patient and exactly the kind of balanced tone Rex always tried for when dealing with his men.

“I-I wouldn’t call it that. You were right before. I’m not their leader.” Then Rex blinked, realising the word Stal had used a few seconds too late. “And they’re not my squad.”

Stal leaned back in his chair and smiled. “You have to admit you work together efficiently when you’re not letting your hang-ups hold you back. Better than any other group in your class.”

“That’s just because I’m the only one with formal military experience. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Perhaps, but the result is a positive one regardless.”

Rex wasn’t sure how to answer that because he couldn’t very well bring up the point that he was worried that getting too involved with his so-called team might interfere with his eventual escape attempt. He decided to try and change the subject. “Sir, if I may ask, what is it you want me to do?”

“Stal,” the sergeant said. “That’s what I want you to call me. Or ‘sergeant’ if you prefer. You think you can do that?”

“Uh, yes. I guess so. Sergeant.”

Stal nodded, clearly pleased. “Good. Alright, first we should get you changed.”

“What?”

The Mandalorian reached down and pulled up a bag from behind his desk and handed it to Rex. “Here, you can try them on in the ‘fresher, but I think they’ll fit.” The garments Rex found himself holding were soft and dark grey and it didn’t take him long to determine that they were a undersuit meant to attach to armour. The material was a bit thicker and less stretchy than his GAR blacks, but otherwise the concept was the same.

He couldn’t think of even one reason why Stal would want him to wear something like that, but he had a feeling that asking would be pointless, so he obediently took them into the small attached refresher. They did fit just fine, and he said as much when he emerged holding his other clothes.

“Great,” said Stal, who was standing facing his desk. “Here, now for the tricky part.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, armour is harder to guess about, and I didn’t want to wait. You’re close in build to the ‘alor, of course, but I couldn’t exactly go and measure him either.”

Sure enough, the sergeant’s desk included an array of armour pieces. “That’s… beskar?”

Stal frowned. “Of course. None of that plastoid garbage here. Ah, no offense, but honestly that armour of yours does the bare minimum, as I’m sure you’ve realised. While durasteel will work in a pinch, there’s a reason beskar’gam is part of the resol’nare. Here, go ahead and take a look,” the sergeant said as he stepped out of the way.

Rex couldn’t help the eagerness that he was desperately trying to tamp down. His experiences with beskar armour were limited to what had been worn by the Mando trainers on Kamino. The table held one full cuirass plus another half-sized chest plate. There were also some mismatched pauldrons and thigh pieces. There was a quite nice set of vambraces. There were of course very basic ones with no weapon attachments, but the quality was exceptional. Some of the armour pieces were unpainted, others had the same yellow and grey colour scheme as Stal’s and others had different colours, though the paint in almost every case was old and chipped. “Um, may I?”

“Sure thing, that’s why I brought all this.”

Rex knew he should ask for the reason behind it, but he found he couldn’t. What was the harm in trying on some armour? It’s not like he had any say in what they did anyway.

The vambraces were somewhat adjustable and fit well. It felt good to be wearing something on his forearms again. The cuirass was too small and a definite lost cause when it came to Rex, which didn’t seem to surprise Stal. “It was my ori’vod’s,” he said as he ran his fingers over the pockmarked metal. “I knew it wouldn’t fit you, but I couldn’t bear to leave it at home.”

Rex understood and wanted desperately to say that out loud. He knew he shouldn’t say anything at all, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la.”

Stal nodded. “It’s been 15 years, but sometimes it still feels like yesterday.”

They continued sorting through the pieces together until Rex had a whole set. The other chest plate was much more forgiving and soon he had everything but a helmet, which made sense. No way they’d give him access to a HUD. Stal dragged him over to the ‘fresher mirror. “Well?”

The image that looked back at Rex looked… like a Mando’ad. There was no getting away from it and for once it wasn’t just because of his face. “My hair’s getting long.” It was, too. He wondered if he could ask to go to a barber.

 _“Rex.”_ Stal’s amused exasperation was enough to make Rex laugh.

He looked at his reflection again and it did feel strangely good to see himself that way. Then it hit him just how wrong it really was. He was a Republic soldier. He’d sworn an oath. “Are you going to tell me what you want me to do now?” He asked Stal.

If the Mando noticed his change in tone, he didn’t comment on it. “I want to ask for your help with something. I mean it. It’s a request, not an order and I want you see what you’d be getting into before I ask.”

The gravity in Stal’s voice was puzzling. Surely it couldn’t be a fight of any kind? There had to be literally millions of loyal Mandalorians more qualified for something like that. Besides, there were in Keldabe on Manda’yaim. Still, he had to admit he was curious. “Now?”

Stal looked at the chrono on his desk and then grabbed his bucket. “Yeah, it’s just about time. Come on, I’ll explain on the way.”

“You mentioned something about explaining,” Rex said as they were cutting across a courtyard.

“Right. So, I don’t just instruct classes of new Mandalorians like yours.”

Rex managed not to complain about that woefully inadequate description. “No?”

“No. I teach a few group classes here and there for other citizens who might want to brush up on certain skills or who are interested in learning specific combat techniques.”

That made sense, but Rex couldn’t figure out what it could possibly have to do with him.

“Anyway. I got talked into taking on a class of young people. They’re not adults yet, but most of them nearly are and while they’re all Mandalorians, they’re new to Manda’yaim. Most of them moved here recently from the border territories because their parents and guardians work in the military or the government.”

By ‘adult,’ Rex figured that Stal was referring to Mandalorian standards. “It’s not going well?”

“It’s a disaster. Nothing like teaching my other classes.”

Rex could help raising a brow at that. “Worse than captured prisoners you’re trying to force into your culture?”

“Look, it’s not always easy with integration candidates, I’ll give you that, but it’s a kind of difficult I’m used to.”

“I guess I understand, but how do you expect me to help?” He had very little experience with cadets and most of it was from back when he was one himself. He always assumed he had the wrong kind of personality for dealing with kids. Then again, so did Alpha-17 as far as Rex was concerned, though he’d never dream of saying so in front of Cody.

They had stopped near a door not unlike the one to Rex’s classroom and Stal was shooting him a slightly panicked look. “I honestly don’t know, but I do know I want reinforcement.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Yes. Well, let’s get this over with.” Stal took a deep breath. “Oya.”

Rex bit his lip to keep from laughing. “Relax, Sergeant. It’s hardly a suicide mission.”

A few minutes later, Rex found himself wishing it were a suicide mission. The dozen or so young Mandos stared at them in silence when they walked in and they really were very young for nat borns. The questions started as soon as Stal and Rex sat at the table in the front.

“Who’s that?” Asked a young Togruta.

“I’m Rex, he/him/his.”

“ _Captain_ Rex is here to help me today,” Stal said.

A blond curly-haired human raised their hand but didn’t wait to be called on. “If he’s a captain then he’s in charge.”

Rex opened his mouth to argue, but Stal beat him to it. “That’s right,” the Mandalorian said and when he turned to Rex it was with a particularly smug smile.

“Are you related to the Mand’alor?” The Twi’lek child who asked that seemed genuinely curious at least.

“I… well.” Rex turned to Stal in horror. This was all his fault.

The sergeant’s expression, thankfully, had turned serious. “He is, but it’s not polite to ask personal questions unless you’ve been given permission. Understood?”

Most of the group nodded.

“Good, let’s get started. Open up the text we were using yesterday and—”

A second Togruta student that was taller and looked a bit older than the first interrupted the sergeant. “That again?! I thought this was supposed to be a combat class?”

“It is, but we haven’t been able to get through the introduction yet—”

“We don’t want to learn _theory_.”

Stal sighed, and Rex could tell it wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation. He knew he should keep quiet and wait until he could extirpate himself from the situation, but something had broken inside of him at the second time the sergeant had been interrupted and couldn’t stop himself from standing and stomping closer to the suddenly alert students. “That’s enough,” he said, and his voice must have been convincingly stern because the effect was immediate. “Just what exactly do you think you’re here to learn?”

There was silence until a human who wore their long dark hair in a braid tentatively raised their hand. “We’re supposed to learn fighting.”

“That may be true, but there is a lot more to combat than the physical skills involved. Surely your buir’e and previous teachers taught you that?” The class nodded. “Right. Discipline, teamwork, strategy and so much more. Respect is up there too. Respect for yourselves, your squadmates, and your leaders. I know you know this.” Rex was pleased to see some guilty looks. Good, the little monsters should feel guilty. “If I had mouthed even half as much as you lot when I was a cadet, I would’ve—” He stopped abruptly when he felt Stal’s eyes on him. “I wouldn’t have got away with it,” he finished lamely.

“I’m sorry,” one said, and others echoed.

“You should be. If you can’t shape up, I might be inclined to have you spend however long…” He trailed off and looked over at the sergeant.

Stal grinned at him. “At least six months.”

“The next six months going every bit of theory we have time for. Understood?” A collection of wide eyes and hasty nods answered him. “Okay, good. Now, let’s get back on track.” Then he gave Stal a pointed look. “How about we split them into groups?”

The sergeant didn’t smile this time, but Rex could see that his eyes gleamed with amusement. “Yes, sir.”

Oh, Rex could throttle him. But first they had to get through the class.

Anakin groaned in annoyance at the exercise on his datapad. It wasn’t difficult but it was tedious and extremely dull. Almost all the coursework was.

“You okay over there?” Obi-Wan asked, though from his tone of voice it was clear he knew what the problem was.

“It’s just… so boring. Why do I have to learn all this random stuff?”

Obi-Wan sighed and Anakin sat up straighter on the sofa he’d been lounging on. They were in Obi-Wan’s office, which was much more spacious and airier than the one where he’d seen Fett. It was also filled with plants, at least one of which was Force sensitive. He wondered how his old master had managed to get his hands on something like that.

Since coming back from Sundari, Obi-Wan had made an effort to see Anakin almost every day and so far, the young Jedi had been able to avoid having to talk to the Mand’alor again.

“It’s important for you to learn Mandalorian culture, Anakin.”

“Whatever. I’m doing everything you said.”

Obi-Wan had stopped what he’d been doing and was fully focusing his attention on Anakin. Which felt good. “Yes, you’ve been doing well. Thank you for making an effort.”

“But you said I’d get to see Rex and it’s been weeks!”

“Anakin, we’ve talked about this.”

Anakin grimaced. “Yeah, and it’s always ‘not a good time.’ When exactly will it be a good time? Is he even really okay?” He didn’t think his master would lie to him about something like that, but he needed to see his captain with his own eyes.

“You need to understand—” Obi-Wan began before cutting himself off and looking over at Anakin thoughtfully. “I know, what about this? You come and have dinner in my quarters tomorrow and we’ll discuss it more.”

That hardly seemed like a difficult compromise to make and Anakin was about to agree readily when something occurred to him. “Would it just be you there?”

“No, Jango will be there too.”

Anakin looked away, furious with himself for almost falling for that. “Then no.”

“It would just be dinner. We could talk and I think it would be good for you.”

“If you actually think I’d sit down and have a meal with you and your abuser, think again.”

Obi-Wan’s hurt was suddenly so evident on his face and in the Force, that for a moment Anakin felt guilty enough to apologise, but the older Jedi recovered first. “How about this, Anakin. You come to dinner with us and I’ll make sure you get to see Rex by the end of next week.”

“So, you’re bribing me?” Anakin asked, a little shocked.

“If you want to see it that way, sure.”

“But you’ll keep your word?”

There was pain from Obi-Wan again, but it was fainter and more controlled. “Don’t I always?”

“Okay, then I agree.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned next time for a family dinner that I'm sure will go completely smoothly and not be at all awkward.
> 
> Riduur - spouse   
> Traat'aliit - squad  
> Ori'vod - older sibling  
> Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la - not dead, merely marching far away


	7. How Not to Host a Dinner Party

“Can I get some help over here?”

The voice of his former master was enough to jar Anakin back to the present moment. He’d been standing and looking out of the floor to ceiling windows in Obi-Wan’s quarters since just after arriving, and he’d been so enmeshed in his thoughts that his first inclination was to feel a bit guilty and mumble an apology before he remembered the realities of his current situation. So, it was with a fair bit of annoyance toward himself that he walked over to the table where Obi-Wan stood. His master wasn’t wearing armour this time, which was a relief, thought the green and blue outfit he had on wasn’t particularly Jedi-like. It didn’t bother Anakin much to not have access to his usual robes, except on principle, but it was incredibly strange to see Obi-Wan wear anything else.

The large room looked about as it always had on Anakin’s visits, though the lights were somewhat dimmer and there a few lit candles that had been placed on shelves and side tables. Obi-Wan appeared to be busy with several trays of covered dishes brought in by a droid and Anakin looked around awkwardly. “Uh, what do you want me to do?”

Then Obi-Wan was smiling at him in that patient, encouraging way of his and it almost felt like he was back in the Temple again. “See that stack of dishes? Why don’t you set the table?”

Anakin did as he was told, trying not to dwell on the fact that there were settings for three. He certainly wasn’t looking forward to having to see Fett again, but it was just one meal and if he could get through it, he’d be able to see Rex again and make sure he was okay. He of course wouldn’t be able to start on any serious escape plan until he had a better idea of where his captain was being held and what the security measures there were like. He couldn’t leave without Rex and anyway he doubted he’d even be able to get off Mandalore with Obi-Wan in his current condition without help.

Still, he wouldn’t mind if the Mand’alor was kept away by his work or, Anakin thought grimly, got in a speeder crash on the way home. It wasn’t like the man didn’t deserve it after everything he’d done to the Republic in general and to Anakin specifically.

They had just finished with the table and sat down with glasses of sweet Mandalorian wine when Jango Fett walked through the door with his helmet tucked under his arm and his hair noticeably damp.

Anakin did his best to keep his face neutral and thought he managed well enough. It became much more difficult when Obi-Wan stood up to greet the man, speaking lowly in Mando’a. Anakin was still putting as little effort as possible into the language modules that appeared on his datapad, but he found he could pick up slightly more now than when he’d first been captured.

It was Fett who switched to Basic and grumbled something about someone named Effao wanting to spar while Obi-Wan smiled indulgently. It was that expression that began to cause cracks in Anakin’s relative calm. He’d had spent years convinced of his teacher’s death and now that they were finally reunited, he had to sit and watch Obi-Wan give patient and long suffering looks to the man who’d held him captive, forced him to fight his own people, brainwashed him and, though Anakin barely wanted to acknowledge it, far worse.

“…isn’t that right?” Obi-Wan asked as he sat down next to Fett and opposite Anakin.

“Uh, what?”

“I was telling Jango that we’d just finished getting things ready.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He was aware of two sets of eyes on him and was suddenly reminded of early on in his apprenticeship when Obi-Wan would occasionally invite other knights (with or without padawans) to their rooms for dinner or, just as often, drag Anakin to someone else’s apartment. Later, he realised his master had been trying to help him adjust to life with the Jedi, but the time it had been rather awkward and– _No,_ he reminded himself. _This isn’t like that at all_. One thing that was clear, though, was that he needed to get through this as quickly as possible. “Should we, um, eat?”

“Of course.” Obi-Wan was smiling at him and he felt his irritation rise again. Because this was so close to what he wanted, to what he’d missed since that horrible day his master had refused to let him take lead on the convoy, but so far from it at the same time.

Anakin forced himself to focus on the food instead. It was an odd mix. He recognised some Mando dishes that he’d become familiar with in the month or so he’d been on the planet and there were a couple more that were standard fare throughout the Republic and Core. The one that stood out the most, however, was arranged on a large oval platter and wasn’t from the Republic or Mandalore. He knew what Obi-Wan was up to because it was the same ploy he’d used when Anakin was a child. It may have worked then, but it wouldn’t work now.

It was a relief when Obi-Wan started talking to Fett about people and events that Anakin knew almost nothing about and mercifully left him out of it, though he found himself needing to refill his glass of wine after catching a few of the looks the two exchanged. He could do this, he told himself. For Rex. For Obi-Wan. He would survive and find a way to get them out.

“So, Anakin.”

Of course, he knew the reprieve couldn’t last and it wasn’t a surprise when he heard his name just as he took a bite of spongy flatbread. He had, however, expected it to be his former master who attempted to draw him into the conversation, and it was all he could do to not choke on his food. “Yeah?” He finally managed, though he couldn’t bring himself to look at the Mand’alor when he said it and instead stole a glance at Obi-Wan who to his relief looked amused rather than nervous.

“Obi-Wan says you’re having a hard time with Mando’a.”

“It’s not hard.” Anakin couldn’t help replying defensively even though he didn’t even want to succeed at their stupid programme. “I just don’t care.”

To his irrational disappointment, the Mandalorian didn’t take the bait. “I’m just surprised you don’t speak it considering the army you served in.”

“That’s a good point.” Obi-Wan added. “That captain of yours is fluent.”

The casual mention of Rex made Anakin frown but before he could come up with a fitting reply he noticed Fett’s expression harden as well and he couldn’t fight the instinct to draw the man’s attention away from Obi-Wan. “I know some words.”

Fett, who had been pouring an obscene amount of chili sauce on a piece of grilled vegetable, paused to look over at him. “Yeah? Which ones?”

“Jango,” Obi-Wan began, “I’m not sure that’s a good ide—”

“Shebs,” Anakin said, speaking over his master. “Chakaar, shabuir, demagolka, hut’u—”

“That’s _quite_ enough!” It was how Obi-Wan felt in the Force rather than his sharp tone or his words that got Anakin to shut up but before he could think of what to say, he realised Fett was laughing.

“I guess I walked right into that.” The Mand’alor went back to his inedible-looking food.

“You did, cyare,” Obi-Wan said before turning to glare at the younger man. “But I expect better of you, Anakin, really.”

If his master was expecting some sort of apology, he’d be waiting a long time. Anakin was about to say something to that effect when he noticed Fett taking food off the platter between them. “That’s not how you're supposed to eat that.”

Once again, the man’s eyes were on him. “No?”

“No. It’s from Tatooine, I think I should know.” He reached over and grabbed a piece of bread. It wasn’t the right kind, not really, but it was close enough. “You take this.” Closer than what Obi-Wan had managed to scrounge up back in Coruscant. “And then you put this,” he said as he used a serving utensil to garb a decent amount of the thin strips of bantha meat and put them in the centre of the bread. Not that he’d had it made with anything other than whomp rat back in Mos Espa. “Then if you want, you can add this and this,” he said, indicating a small bowl of sour pickled fruit and another with a creamy sauce. “But you’ll probably just drench it in that nasty chili stuff, so why bother?” He unceremoniously dropped the wrap on the Mandalorian’s plate.

Fett’s unreadable expression barely changed, but he added both condiments and then kept his eyes on Anakin a little too long for comfort. “You’ll get used to our food.”

Like hell he would, but seeing as Obi-Wan felt more relaxed in the Force than he had since Fett arrived, Anakin had no desire to jeopardise that with a snarky retort, even if he did have to literally bite his tongue.

The conversation drifted back to topics of governance and other painfully boring subjects while Anakin mainly paid attention to his food. Nothing the other two discussed was useful to him or potentially valuable to the Republic and he didn’t actually think the ruler of the Mandalorian Empire would be stupid enough to speak of anything like that in front of him, so he let his thoughts drift.

It was only when Obi-Wan, who was talking about one of the classes he taught, said something that caught his attention that he started paying attention again. “Ruusaan?” He asked, not being able to help himself. “Like in the books?”

Anakin had quickly gone through all the material Obi-Wan had put on his second datapad, the one that wasn’t devoted to “coursework.” After a few incredibly boring days, he’d caved and asked his master for more, fully expecting to be told no. To his surprise, Obi-Wan took the pad without comment and returned it the next day. Most of the new additions were non-fiction books and articles about topics he was interested in, but there was also a complete series of novels he’d never heard of before. He avoided it at first because it was clearly Mandalorian, though the copy he’d been given was translated into Basic, but eventually he gave in. He’d been almost immediately hooked, and though the main character was a commando who was the last survivor of her squad, it was set centuries in the past and the story was about adventure and pirates and sinister foes lurking in the shadows, not the Empire he hated.

Obi-Wan’s mouth quirked into an amused half-smile at the question. “Yes, like in the books, though Ruusaan is a common name, especially on and around Manda’yaim.”

“You gave him _The Lone Commando_?” Fett had stopped eating in order to stare at Anakin’s master.

“Yes, I thought it might be to his taste and it seems I was correct.”

The Mand’alor shook his head incredulously. “But you didn’t even finish it.”

“Jango, I tried. I know it’s a beloved series and I do understand the appeal, but the plots are rather repetitive and the quality of the writing decreases as—”

“They’re not _repetitive_ ,” Anakin said, interrupting. Obi-Wan could be such a snob sometimes. “Though I hope that by the end she’s able to find out who betrayed them and murdered her sister and get her revenge.” He cringed as he finished speaking. Despite everything, he still expected some kind of lecture from Obi-Wan about un-Jedi-like behaviour.

But none came and it was Fett who replied. “There’s a satisfying ending, though it’s a little different than how the best holo adaptation wraps up.”

“There’s a holodrama?” Anakin knew he shouldn’t be engaging with the man, but his daily life was so boring now and surely it didn’t hurt much. It’s not like it changed anything.

“Yes, I’ll make sure you get it on a datastick.”

“There was something in the story I didn’t understand, though,” he said before he could stop himself.

Fett raised a brow. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Why’d they make such a big deal about her painting her armour once she realised the others had been killed?”

“Ah, well, it’s no longer as culturally important as it once was, but the colours people paint their beskar’gam have significance and…”

By the time the explanation, plus added commentary by Obi-Wan, was finished and the topic had drifted to being about literature in general, they were all done eating and the plates had been pushed aside.

“My point,” Obi-Wan was saying, “is that there are many great Mandalorian novels that are overlooked and deserve more recognition.”

“I’m not arguing with that, ner kad’au. I’m glad you found _Starfire Gates_ in the library, for example. I’d completely forgotten about it.”

“Hm, maybe Anakin would like that one too. Though we only have a physical copy.” Obi-Wan turned to look at Fett, as if asking for permission for something.

The Mand’alor nodded and Obi-Wan smiled and pointed to the other side of the room to where a sofa sat next to a small shelf filled with books. “You can take whichever ones you’d like.”

Anakin wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity for more things to pass the time so he walked over and began to browse through the titles, ignoring the many volumes that appeared to be histories of the most boring and tedious sort. There were a few interesting-looking novels, however, besides the one Fett had mentioned and as he found them, he set them on top of the shelf.

When he finished, he stood up and grabbed the stack of books and that’s when he noticed it. The control panel was on the wall just above and a bit to the side of the bookshelf. It was an odd place for one, because it wasn’t close to a door and it clearly weren’t for lights or temperature. The reality of what the controls were for sunk in about the same time as he realised that they weren’t currently bio locked. He let the books drop to floor and stepped closer to the panel. “What the hell is this?” He asked anyway. As he spoke, he could feel the anger he’d been repressing pulsing through him.

“Anakin, come back over here,” Obi-Wan was pleading, though the younger man ignored him completely. Despite his fury, Anakin didn’t miss that Fett, who notably hadn’t divested himself of all his weapons before dinner, was standing up as well. He tried not to think about that and instead pounded one fist into the controls. A shimmery blue energy field appeared instantly, like he knew it would, encasing the small area around the sofa. There was absolutely no reason to have ray shields like the ones Anakin was staring at with dread and rage unless you wanted to confine someone. “We can talk about it,” Obi-Wan, continued as he moved slowly and deliberately from the other side of the table, “if you just come back and sit down.”

Anakin knew the cuffs he wore worked as mild suppressors and were activated every time he was taken from his room, though they were nothing like the heavy-duty ones he’d put on Obi-Wan when they’d captured him. Still, he could feel the Force around him, and it felt different than normal, staticky and cold. It was easier than he’d expected to tap into it, despite the cuffs. He used every bit of strength he could muster to pull a heavy crystal vase off the shelf and launch it at the approaching Mandalorian.

What he hadn’t counted on was how fast his master could move when he wanted too, probably because a part of Anakin was still unable to admit that Obi-Wan, even the way he was now, would truly want to protect Jango Fett.

But this Obi-Wan did protect the Mand’alor, stepping in front of him just in time. The vase crashed to the ground and when he looked up, it was to worried blue eyes, furious brown ones and a blaster aimed at his chest.

He thought briefly about trying again. He knew that any additional attempt could very well prove fatal, but what stopped him wasn’t reason. It was the pain and fear etched on Obi-Wan’s face. That was an expression he’d seen before on someone else’s and suddenly his brain was replaying every time he’d accidently or intentionaly misbehaved as a child, only for Shmi to suffer for it. It was a lesson he’d learned long before Master Qui-Gon had found him in Watto’s shop. Suddenly, the power he felt around him leached away and he was left cold and lonely and as helpless as he'd been all those times back on Tatooine as he sunk to his knees and slowly lifted his arms.

If he was going to die, and that felt like a distinct possibility, he didn’t want it to happen in front of his master if he could help it.

“That was too close!” Fett was shouting. Anakin felt fear and terror close in around him where there had been nothing but anger just moments before.

“Cyare, calm down.” Obi-Wan had one hand on the other man’s shoulder in a soothing gesture.

Anakin tried to hold back the panic he felt. “It wasn’t his fault! He didn’t do anything!”

But he was ignored and the Mand’alor turned angrily toward Obi-Wan. “He could have hurt you!”

Anakin blinked. That was what Fett had been worried about? It didn’t make sense. And yet somehow, the man felt sincere in the Force.

“But he didn’t, love.”

Fett didn’t lower the blaster, but he inhaled and nodded slightly. “Fine, but you need to handle this _now._ ”

“Understood,” Obi-Wan said with an almost military-like briskness then he was pulling something out of his pocket and stepping forward. “Anakin, I’m going to give you a hypo that will make you sleep. It’s better than getting stunned, trust me.”

The choice of terminology confused him. That blaster was on stun? Anakin quickly glanced toward where Fett still stood with his weapon. Surely Obi-Wan was just saying that to lure Anakin into some false sense of security. He didn’t have much choice about any of it, however, so he just nodded and let the darkness and Obi-Wan’s arms envelope him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, Rex gets a little over his head and things change for Anakin
> 
> cyare - beloved  
> shebs - backside, rear, ass  
> chakaar - lit. grave robber but a general term of abuse  
> shabuir - like jerk but much stronger  
> demagolka - someone who commits atrocities, a real-life monster  
> hut'uun - coward, worst possible insult for Mandalorians  
> ner kad'au - my lightsabre


	8. How Not to Bond with Your Children pt. 1

Rex tossed aside the rag he’d been holding and couldn’t help but look with satisfaction at the pauldron in his hand. Beskar took more effort to clean and shine than plastoid, there was no doubt about that, but the end result was beyond anything that could be achieved with standard clone armour, or even the slightly better stuff ARCs, officers and the like got. Rex knew he wasn’t a Mando’ad, not really, despite his DNA, but it was impossible to ignore the allure of real beskar.

“You’re good at that,” Stal said from the other side of the desk, drawing him back to reality. “But of course you would be.” They’d returned to the sergeant’s office after the class and it had been far too easy to fall into usual light-hearted joking around that was so familiar to Rex despite the difference in setting. It had been, for obvious reasons, frowned upon for the clones to speak Mando’a openly once they’d left Kamino and officially joined the GAR. Most of them hadn’t stopped completely when they were among brothers, but Rex couldn’t help but admit to himself that it felt good to speak the language as default and not worry about repercussions.

Rex just nodded and handed the piece of armour over to the other man to be added to the growing pile. Stal hadn’t told him to polish the beskar’gam he’d been leant when they finished with the Mando kids, but he hadn’t objected when Rex asked to, either. The pieces had clearly been in storage for some time and most were badly in need of new paint, but at least Rex could make them shine again. 

“You really want me to help with your cadets?” Rex asked as he began on the last piece, a thigh plate. He’d made his decision sometime around the end of the class. Cooperating wouldn’t just be a way to bide time and convince the Mandos he was going along with their programme, it would also give him more of a chance to see the rest of the complex of buildings and plan an escape. If he felt a bit bad for using Stal like that when the man been unusually accommodating, he knew to push those feelings away. He was and always would be a loyal soldier of the Republic, regardless of whether he managed to make it back alive.

“Of course. You should’ve seen what it was like before with the little monsters. Today was an improvement, trust me.”

When Rex finished with the last piece, he stood up and stretched. “I guess I should get back.” His work with Stal might be sanctioned, but he knew he was still expected to keep up with his assignments from his classes.

Stal, however, didn’t get up from his chair. “There’s one thing I wanted to discuss first.”

“Elek?”

“You need to fix things with your traat’aliit.” The man’s voice was firm, more like how he sounded in class than he did when it was just him and Rex.

“They’re not—”

“I mean it. There’s a reason that group gravitated to you for guidance, and it’s not just because you were randomly assigned to be a team that first time.”

Rex shook his head. “Respectfully, Sergeant, I think you’re seeing what you want to see.”

The Mandalorian trainer didn’t react to Rex’s disagreement except to smile slightly and lean back in his chair. “I’m not, I assure you. Don’t get me wrong, all of them are capable but they… well, a few in particular as I’m sure you’re aware, are desperately in need of leadership.”

Rex knew Stal was correct and he was careful not to make eye contact. “Maybe so, but isn’t that your job?”

“It is. But it’s also my job to decide what’s working and what isn’t. It’s your leadership they need, Rex. I know you can see it too. Though I’ve unfortunately never had the chance to see you in battle, it’s clear you’re an excellent officer when it comes to working with verde. You’re a true leader, Rex and it’s no wonder you were put in command.”

_The Longneck’s eerie black eyes drift over the young clone just briefly before their attention turns back to the Weequay training sergeant who had dragged Rex to this room. “Your opinion is noted. However, while CT-7567 may have adequate test results currently, some of the previous assessments were mixed at best and that’s setting aside the obvious mutation.” There is nothing Rex could do to block out the conversation though he fervently wished he could. If only Kote was there with him or he had the ability to melt into the walls. Then the Kaminoan is once again looking at him. “No, I don’t believe this clone is a suitable candidate for command training.”_

The sudden unbidden memory was enough to throw Rex off guard and force him to take a deep breath. He knew Sergeant Stal’s eyes were on him and that the man was waiting for a response. “I, well, I’ll see what I can do, but I’m not making any promises.”

“That’s fine. Thank you, Rex.”

“You’re welcome, sir.”

_“Rex.”_

“Sorry. Sergeant.”

Stal grinned as he got up. “Right, let’s see about getting you back in time for dinner then.”

Anakin woke up with a splitting headache as memories flooded back to him. Drugs. Obi-Wan had given him drugs after he’d… after he’d got angry and tried to attack the Mand’alor. Immediately he felt shame over how badly he’d failed and how he’d inadvertently put his master at risk, both because Obi-Wan had stepped in to protect Fett and because he’d likely become a target of the Mandalorian leader’s wrath once Anakin was unconscious and no longer a threat.

Those thoughts were so overwhelming that it took him a few moments to register the change in surroundings. He was no longer in his room in what Obi-Wan had told him was a hallway for Force sensitive integration candidates.

No, this was completely different. It was larger, for one thing, and the decoration and architectural style was much closer to Obi-Wan’s apartment. The bed he was in was narrow and made of the heavy carved wood that seemed popular on Mandalore. While the room had clearly been cleaned recently, the pieces of furniture haphazardly placed around the room, several of which were covered by sheets, spoke to it being disused until Anakin had been deposited there.

He pulled himself out of bed and saw he was dressed in soft Mandalorian-style night things. He also noticed the new cuffs on his wrist, which were probably the reason he felt almost completely cut off from the Force. That wasn’t unexpected, of course, and he had in fact been anticipating a prison cell to go along with the suppressors. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a renewed sense of embarrassment and failure. How was he supposed to help his master and Rex now?

Before he could calm himself down the door slid open.

“Obi-Wan,” he said. If his master was able to come to him so quickly after Anakin had woken up, that must mean that the room was under surveillance.

“How are you feeling?” Obi-Wan at least looked okay. He was wearing a dark blue and grey set of clothing that looked a little more formal than usual.

Anakin frowned. “Like I’ve been drugged.”

“Oh Anakin, you know I’m sorry about that.”

“Are you?”

The older man sighed. “Of course I am.” He walked over to a small table with two chairs. “Come sit down.”

Because he wasn’t able to think of a reason to resist at that point, Anakin did as he was told. “Where am I? And why am I here?”

“Surely you understand that things had to change after your… outburst.”

Anakin managed not to lash out at that. “Okay, but this is just another room.” A bigger, nicer one at that, for all that it needed some arranging.

“Yes, well, after some discussion, Jango and I decided that it would be better to have you closer.”

“Wait, what?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “This room is next to our quarters. You’ll be spending more time with both of us as part of our effort to supply you with more structure and a more suitable framework for your integration. I apologise for not realising earlier on that this was necessary.”

Anakin couldn’t help the suspicion that he knew crept into his voice. “What kind of structure?”

“You’ll of course continue with your classes on your datapad, which I’ve had brought here along with your clothes.” Obi-Wan indicated a cabinet on top of which was sat a stack of clothing and the familiar pad.

“Where’s the other one? The one with my books?”

“I’m keeping that one for now. If you do your coursework in a timely manner and otherwise behave, you’ll be able to earn it back.”

Anakin felt his face heat up at being treated like a misbehaving youngling, but he knew that arguing wouldn’t help. He didn’t want to further alienate his master if he could help it.

“You’ll also be expected to eat with Jango and me whenever our schedules allow, so it’ll probably end up just being the evening meal most days.”

“Why? Because it went so well last time? I refuse,” Anakin said with a glare at the former Jedi.

Obi-Wan just looked at him sadly. “Anakin, I’m trying to make this as easy on you as possible, but you need to work with me. I gave you my word that you’d be able to see your captain and I intend to keep my promise.”

Anakin could only stare at his master. He had been sure that he’d destroyed any possibility of seeing Rex when he lost control at dinner. “Really?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said before pausing for a moment to simply look at Anakin. “And because it’s clearly important to you, I think we can arrange for you two to meet once every fiveday, circumstances allowing. That of course will depend entirely on your cooperation.”

As much as he wanted to see Rex, he knew he shouldn’t go along with what Obi-Wan wanted. “And if I don’t cooperate?”

“You’ll fail to earn back any privileges, naturally, and if you won’t come and eat with us when invited, you won’t be having those meals at all.”

It was all Anakin could do to not laugh in his master’s face. “You really think that I’ll be bothered by skipping some meals?” What a ridiculous thought.

Obi-Wan’s face stayed impassive. “No, but I don’t believe you’d want to be responsible for Captain Rex not eating as a consequence of your pointless acts of rebellion.”

It felt to Anakin as though his veins had turned to ice. “You wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t want to, but if that’s what it takes for you to see reason…” Obi-Wan sounded genuinely unhappy as he trailed off and that was probably the only thing that kept Anakin from erupting in anger once again. His master was also a victim, he reminded himself.

“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Good. You’ll also need to come to class with me twice a week.”

Anakin blinked at that. “But you said I’d continue with the modules on the datapad.”

“For your integration classes, yes. I teach a class for young Force sensitive adults on how to handle their abilities so that they do not harm themselves and others and you’ll attending starting tomorrow.”

That was far too much to ask. “If you think I’ll willingly help teach Mando brats then you’re about to be sorely disappointed.”

Obi-Wan laughed, though it was without humour. “You misunderstand, young one. You’re clearly struggling to control yourself and your reckless brushes with the Dark have got to stop. You’ll be attending as a student.”

For the first time in a long time, Anakin found himself completely at a loss for words.

Rex fastened the last piece of armour on and allowed himself the indulgence of seeing how he looked in the mirror in Stal’s office. He once again wore the whole kit sans helmet and it looked even better since he’d given the pieces a once over. He certainly felt more prepared to deal with the students now that they were entering the second week of Rex being in charge and he was fairly satisfied with the lesson plan he’d sketched out in his room the night before. It was slightly terrifying that the sergeant had completely handed control of the teaching and all it entailed over to Rex, but he was fairly sure he could continue to handle it.

He intended to share his ideas for the lesson with Stal when the sergeant got back from whatever he was doing. Rex had been a little surprised that the trainer had left him alone in the office to change into the kute and beskar’gam, but there were guards out in the corridor not far from the office’s doorway, so it wasn’t as if he’d have much of a chance to escape even if he’d been willing to attempt something like that without a well thought out plan.

If wasn’t long after he’d sat back down that he heard the door open behind him. “Took you long enough, Ruus’alor” he said teasingly as he stood up. “Thought you might’ve decided to pawn your entire job off on me.” But the person staring at him wasn’t Georik Stal.

“Jaig Eyes,” the Mand’alor said, in that difficult to interpret tone of his.

“That’s not my name.” There had been a Jaig Eyes in Rex’s batch, though the name had been given ironically and the kid hadn’t come close to making it off Kamino.

Jango Fett seemed to consider that for a moment before nodding. “Rex.”

Rex by then was used to the face most Mando’ade made upon first seeing him. It was one thing to be aware that the Republic’s army was largely made up of their ruler’s clones and an entirely different thing to see evidence of it oneself. But Rex had to admit that it was more than a little strange to see that expression of surprise and discomfort on his own face. He’d assumed that their brief encounter on the way to Manda’yaim would have enough to get it out of Fett’s system, but apparently not.

“Where’s Stal?” Fett asked as he walked past Rex and sat down in the trainer’s desk chair.

“He had to go do something.” When he got a frown at that he added, “He doesn’t tell me everything he does, nor should he, I imagine.”

“All right then, sit down.” As he spoke, the Mand’alor indicated the chair Rex had just risen from.

It was hard for Rex to think of anything he wanted to do less than that, but he knew he had no choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes Obi-Wan is bluffing about withholding food from Rex and Anakin doesn't fully buy it but he can't be 100% sure, which is what Obi is counting on
> 
> Next time, tense conversations and meetings and uh oh, are you really as in control as you think you are, Rex?
> 
> elek - yes  
> traat'aliit - squad  
> ruus'alor - sergeant


	9. How Not to Bond with Your Children pt. 2

It took all of Rex’s resolve, but he didn’t flinch away under Fett’s steady gaze as he sat down opposite the man. “Mand’alor,” he said, adopting the careful tone he’d use with a Kaminoan or an especially unpleasant nat born officer. “If it’s Sergeant Stal you want, I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

The Mandalorian ignored that, as Rex assumed that he would. “My mate says you were second in command of the 501st legion under our _ad_.”

Rex nodded, though he was confused by the line of inquiry. “Yes, sir.”

“How did that happen? You’re only a captain.”

“The clone commander assigned to us was killed in action a few weeks after we took up our post. I took on the role and General Skywalker seems to be satisfied with my work.” He tried to keep any defensive notes out of his voice, but he knew he failed.

To his relief, Fett didn’t ask any further questions about Rex’s role in the GAR, which he shouldn’t be answering anyway, though the long silence that followed became increasingly uncomfortable. “Did I ever meet you?”

“Sir?” Rex asked, before the exact meaning of the Mand’alor’s question sunk in. “Oh, uh. No, you didn’t.” His memories of the time before their template’s falling out with the Kaminiise were blurry at best, but that was one thing he was sure of.

“I didn’t think so.”

“You met my _ori’vod_. Just once, I think.” And it hadn’t gone particularly well for either Cody or Fett, Rex didn’t add. The older clone had come back shaking with fury but apparently uninjured and the rumour was that Prime had ended up with a split lip for his trouble. Rex had never felt brave enough to ask Cody for the full story. “And our early training was conducted by one of the Alphas.”

The Mandalorian ruler’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me their names?”

 _“Nu draar.”_ Surely that wasn’t information that would justify torture or even the threat of it? But maybe Fett was just looking for an excuse.

The other man shrugged. “Your Mando’a is good.”

“Like I said, sir, trained by Alpha batch.”

To Rex’s surprise, there wasn’t any kind of rejoinder. Just a long pause. “It wasn’t what I wanted—” Fett began and then stopped. “I never intended for you all to end up how you did.”

Rex couldn’t stop himself from laughing and the sound echoed around the small room while the template for Rex and all his brothers stared at him incredulously. “Ah, I just— Of course you didn’t. I can’t imagine anyone would plan on handing their enemies a whole army, much less one made up of their own clones.” Though he was sure that it was more the loss of face that was the real issue rather than any sort of affection or concern toward the troopers who would’ve been tools regardless of which government they served.

“That’s not exactly…” Fett started to say, just as the door opened.

“Sorry I took so long,” Stal’s voice called out and then trailed off. Rex turned around just in time to see the sergeant remove his helmet. _“‘_ Alor _, su cuy’gar.”_

“ _Su cuy’gar_ , Sergeant.” Fett’s voice was back to how it had been when he first walked in, firm and uninterpretable.

Stal glanced quickly between the two men with identical faces, but when he spoke it was no surprise who he addressed. “I apologise for the interruption, ‘Alor. I’ll go out again and someone can comm me when you’re finished.”

“That’s not necessary,” the Mand’alor said as he stood up. “But you should know that Rex might be needed for something in the next few days, so you’ll have to do without him then.” Rex tried not to think about what that could mean. He had so little information that speculation would be pointless, but he couldn’t help the suddenly tight feeling in his chest.

“Understood.” Stal dipped his head respectfully as he spoke and then turned to the subject of their conversation. “Well, I think we still have time for a little target practice before class, if you’re up for it. Maybe make it a competition like last time?”

Fett, who had nearly made it to the door, turned back to frown at the clone. “Target shooting? You should be able to beat him easily,” he said with a gesture toward the other Mandalorian.

“He can,” Stal said mildly. “And has, every time.” Rex struggled to not react. He’d made sure to lose to the sergeant more than half of the time when they competed at the firing range simulation and the other man had never once let on that he’d known.

The sole ruler of the Mandalorian Empire took a step closer to Rex and frowned at the _beskar_ he wore before turning his attention to the sergeant. “This armour belonged to your _vod_ , didn’t it?”

Stal answered in a slightly strained voice. “Some of it, yes.”

“Now there was a sharpshooter.”

“Yes, sir. She was.” Stal’s voice was steady as he spoke, but Rex didn’t miss the tense way he held himself and the fact that he wasn’t making eye contact with Fett.

The Mand’alor himself didn’t seem to notice. _“Ret'urcye mhi,”_ he said as he walked through the door.

Stal echoed the salutation respectfully and then the Mand’alor was gone as suddenly as he’d arrived, though he left behind a lingering awkwardness. Yet another reason to resent Fett, Rex thought bitterly. Then he shook his head, mildly disgusted at his own naiveite. Stal wasn’t his friend and never had been. Rex knew that. He’d always known that. He couldn’t pinpoint why it hurt to see the man defer to his own ruler.

The Mandalorian trainer was looking at him. “Ah, so. What do you say we go and get a couple rounds in?”

Rex shrugged. “We don’t have a lot of time now. Should probably just go to the classroom and get set up.” He knew he was using the voice he’d use when a trooper under his command was trying his patience, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

The class for the young adult Mandalorians, which on that day consisted mostly of endurance exercises, went about as well as could be expected given the tension between the men. Something that never improved much despite Stal’s frequent attempts at familiarity.

The sergeant never confronted him, though, even when they were back in the office and Rex put away the _beskar’gam_ without engaging in their usual banter.

“What’s with the sour face? I know for a fact you like this barely edible soup,” Orne said, grinnng at Rex from the other side of the canteen table. Rex hadn’t intended to wholeheartedly comply with Stal’s instructions to fix things with the other prisoners who saw him as part of their team. He’d planned to smooth things over just enough to prevent any further incidents, but he suddenly found himself relieved that he had people around him who cared on some level, even if it was somewhat uncomfortable to have several sets of eyes trained on him.

He sighed and stared down at the food item in question, a thin broth filled with greens and mushrooms and topped with a copious amount of chili oil that he’d barely touched. “The soup’s fine.”

“Then what's the–” The near-human began before getting cut off by Cuzao.

“Orne, leave Rex along.”

Rex shook his head slightly. For some reason, sitting in silence felt worse. “It’s all right. Nothing really happened.” He tried another spoonful of soup, but he still didn’t feel like eating. “It’s just that Prime, er, I mean, the Mand’alor came by Sergeant Stal’s office.”

“What?” That was Ilsi and their eyes widened more than Rex would have thought possible. The rest of the group look similarly disturbed. “Why?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest. Maybe he just wanted to question me without his _riduur_ there.”

“And did he?” Cuzao Loman asked with a troubled look on his face.

Rex blinked. “Did he what?”

“Question you.”

“Oh. No, not really. Stal came back before he got very far.” Rex realised the absurdity of what he’d just said before he’d finished speaking and the Tholothian clearly had too.

“Surely that wouldn’t have stopped him if he’d really wanted to interrogate you.”

He acknowledged the truth of that with a tilt of his head. “I don’t know what he was after.” He decided not to share the part where Fett had said Rex might be ‘required for something.’ There was no reason to worry them unnecessarily.

“Rex,” Ilsi said. “You really should try to eat.”

He knew they weren’t wrong. No matter what happened in the near future, he needed to be at full strength, so he picked up the spoon he’d abandoned and pushed away his concerns.

The next day went as usual. He didn’t have to teach, thankfully, though the integration candidates had their combat training class with Stal. Despite Rex’s worries, the man didn’t pay him any special attention and when he needed someone to demonstrate a hand-to-hand combat move, he chose a Trandoshan who smirked at the clone as he walked to the front of the room. Rex told himself that what he felt in that moment was entirely a holdout from the rivalries that developed on Kamino and exacerbated by the sorts of insecurities that all troopers experienced, but especially those with visible mutations. He told himself that again as the other trainee replicated the move in a far sloppier way than Rex would have, yet still received encouragement from their sergeant.

To his relief, the rest of the period went quickly, and they were sent along to their culture class and then to their rooms for dinner and coursework. The morning after that was similarly without incident and Rex began to feel a bit ridiculous for his earlier reactions. He had no intention of apologising to Stal or anything like that, but there was no reason he couldn’t be civil.

But then two familiar guards came to pull him out of his morning class an hour early. They spoke to the teacher who sighed and ushered him out as he suddenly remembered Fett’s ominous words in the trainer’s office. “Can I ask where we’re going?” He tried once he was being escorted down the corridor, not expecting an answer.

To his surprise, one of the helmeted Mandos turned to him. “Firing range.”

A heavy weight lifted off Rex. That meant it was Sergeant Stal who’d sent for him, not Fett. Sure, to call the simulation room used by the trainees a ‘firing range’ was a bit of a misnomer, but this was clearly Stal’s attempt at reconciliation, and he knew he might as well accept. Acting like a petulant cadet wouldn’t get him anywhere at this point. 

The boost to his mood meant he didn’t initially realise that they weren’t going in the right direction. “Wait,” he said when he finally noticed. Had they lied to him? He didn’t think they’d bother. “Where are we?”

The same guard who’d spoken to him before pointed to the low semi-detached building they were approaching. “I told you already.”

Then they were walking inside, and it was indeed a firing range. A real one, and the people using it were clearly Mandalorian citizens with real firearms and several of them did double takes as Rex walked by. How on Manda’yaim had Stal managed to get permission to bring him somewhere like that?

He got his answer when the guards stopped in front of one of the aisles. The aisle where Jango Fett stood in full armour and helmet holding what appeared to be two custom-made Westar blaster pistols. “I thought we could try with the real thing.”

Rex could only stare. Was something wrong with the man? Had he taken drugs? “Sir, that’s—”

Fett turned to him and Rex knew a set of eyes identical to his own were watching him. “The guards are staying nearby. Everyone is wearing armour except you. I don’t think I have to go into detail about what would happen if you tried anything.”

He didn’t have to, of course. Rex certainly wouldn’t shed any tears over the Mand’alor, but assassination, if he could even manage it, followed by near instant martyrdom wasn’t part of his plan. It wouldn’t help Anakin nor the Republic, not in the long run. “Understood.”

“Right,” Fett said, handing him a blaster. “And don’t let me see you holding back.” That meant he’d either spoken to Stal or he’d watched the holos of his clone in the target shooting sim.

Rex didn’t hold back, but he lost the first round all the same. The second time he won but just barely and the third he won, and it wasn’t close at all. After he finished shooting the third time and checked the nearby screen for their results, he turned around to find Fett sitting on a bench behind him with his helmet off, watching him intently.

“Mand’alor?”

“You’re good.”

Rex felt his cheeks heat up. He should be a lot better and it was embarrassing that he wasn’t. He’d clearly become too accustomed to his HUD.

They went back to it and Rex won slightly more often than Fett. It was exhilarating, he wasn’t afraid to admit but unlike with Stal, he never had to remind himself who he was with or stop himself from bantering or joking around. Jango Fett was in charge and in control and that couldn't mean good things for Rex. 

When they finally finished Jango nodded his head in approval as he took back the pistol and felt his heart lurch. It was simply because of those early years on Kamino, he told himself. The overwhelming desire to please the Longnecks and also Prime, who was the reason for their existence in more than one way.

Fett left without saying much in the way of goodbye and as he was led back to his quarters Rex’s emotions swirled around in his brain. He felt relieved that he’d done a good enough job that he hadn’t totally embarrassed himself in front of the Mand’alor, but he also felt ashamed that he hadn’t taken the opportunity to ask about General Skywalker to do something, anything to help their situation.

He knew he wasn’t alone among his brothers in occasionally feeling like a pawn in the GAR, but this was so much worse. Something had become abundantly clear. He had to finish planning their escape and he had to do it soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: back to Anakin and also some other stuff happens???
> 
> ori'vod - older sibling, special friend  
> vod - sibling  
> nu draar - no way, absolutely not  
> su cuy'gar - hello  
> ret'urcye mhi - goodbye  
> riduur - spouse, mate


	10. How Not to Make Progress

Anakin picked up a small stuffed pastry and then sat it back down. He hated that he enjoyed them so much. He hated that so many little things about his life as a captive on Mandalore had started to feel normal. He thought of the times during his apprenticeship when he’d wished the fighting would slow down enough for him and his master to share a leisurely meal.

Not that Obi-Wan was actually paying much attention to him at the moment. “What was the point of dragging me down here for breakfast if you were just going to ignore me?”

Obi-Wan looked up from his datapad in surprise, as if he had indeed forgotten that Anakin was with him in the canteen. “I apologise,” he said with a convincing amount of sincerity. “I'm afraid I got a little distracted by some of my work, but you’re absolutely correct. I wanted to spend time with you.”

Anakin hadn’t been expecting any sort of concession on the matter, so he quickly grabbed the pastry he’d abandoned earlier in lieu of having to think of something to say. “What are the plans for today?” He asked between bites, motivated by more than just idle interest. After he’d woken up in new quarters after his unsuccessful attack on Fett, Obi-Wan had told him he’d be given a tenday to get used to his new living situation before he’d have to start attending classes for Mandalorian Force users. That had been ten days ago but so far, his former master hadn’t said a word about it. It wasn’t like he was eager for what was sure to be a humiliating experience. A full Knight of the Jedi order forced into some pathetic excuse for a class with a bunch of probably barely Force sensitive Mando brats. But the ongoing suspense was killing him and he just wanted to move on.

“Well, I have a council meeting after this and then a lunch with some regional governors and then yet another meeting,” Obi-Wan said mildly. “During that time, you can do your coursework, either in your room or supervised in the library.”

Anakin had to quickly hide a frown at that. Under the new tyrannical rules, Obi-Wan checked his progress every evening and used it to determine if he should ‘earn’ back any of the entertainment materials that he’d lost or, at worst, lose any that he’d already regained. There had been a few miserable days where he’d had nothing but dull educational modules that had made him desperate enough to have a go at the Mando’a-language books in his room.

It was endlessly frustrating, but he had no desire to get into an argument, so he just nodded.

“After I get back, we’ll get something quick to eat and then go to class.”

There it was. Though Anakin certainly wasn’t looking forward to it in any way, it would almost be a relief to get it out of the way. Maybe Obi-Wan would only make him go once or twice to make a point. “Fine,” Anakin said between bites. “Could I also go to a salle for practice? While you’re busy, I mean.” He was always closely watched by guards and never given anything more than a wooden sword, but it was always nice to be able to exercise some.

“I don’t see why not.” Obi-Wan sat down his datapad and gave him a small smile. “As long as you keep on top of your assignments. I’ll let Nia and Vrix know,” he added, giving the names of Anakin’s two most frequent guards.

The rest of the day proceeded uneventfully. Running through katas and doing strength building exercises for an hour or so improved his mood and calmed him in a way that meditation rarely did. He even started in on his daily coursework slightly less grudgingly than usual.

But by the time he had finished and submitted his work, he still hadn’t received a comm from Obi-Wan and his mood began to sour. It was like being back at the Temple as a child, but even worse because he couldn’t just wander the halls and peek into meeting rooms hoping to find his master.

His patience had worn down to the point that he was nearly about to stand up and start pacing the room, when without warning there was a knock on the door followed immediately by it sliding open and revealing Vrix Pennai, their mostly orange armour glinting in the late afternoon sun that shone through the room’s large window.

“The Be’alor sent us to fetch you,” they said. “He said to tell you he’s sorry he couldn’t come back here sooner, but an urgent meeting ran long.”

 _Typical,_ Anakin thought, though at least he no longer had cause to worry about his master. He didn’t give a verbal answer to the guard, but he grabbed his jacket and followed them out into the hallway where the other one waited.

It was a longer walk than Anakin had been anticipating. It seemed he’d already got used to remaining in the inner part of the sprawling government complex, but soon enough he was walking into a mostly full classroom. Obi-Wan was nowhere to be seen, but he saw with relief that the majority of the students were around his age or at least not much younger. That was at least better than being stuck with a bunch of kids in their early teens like he’d been expecting. He also noticed that they were looking at him with nothing more than mild curiosity.

He found a seat toward the back of the room next to a blue skinned Twi’lek, who narrowed their eyes as he sat down. “You’re new.”

“Sayih!” A Togruta on the other side of them said.

“Oops, forgot my manners. I’m Sayih, she/her/hers,” she said with a smile.

The Togruta leaned forward to get a better look at the new arrival. “Rallat Par, he/him.”

“Uh, Anakin. He/him/his.”

“You’ll probably have to wait until after the class to meet anyone else,” Rallat was saying. “Adat’juri is pretty much always on time.”

“I don’t know,” said a Twi’lek from the row in front of them as they turned around in their chair. “My ori'vod messaged to say he saw our adat’juri with his ad in one of the canteens at breakfast today. So maybe he’s busy with family stuff.” Then they turned to Anakin with a smile. “Faysi Stal, she/her/hers.”

“Did your vod see what they looked like?” Rallat Par asked at the same time as Sayih’s surprised, “Really?”

Faysi laughed. “Oh, you know what Njete’s like. I doubt he noticed.”

“I wonder if he looks like a Jedi,” Sayih mused.

“Well, does Adat’juri ‘look like a Jedi?’” Faysi countered.

“Adat’juri looks like adat’juri.”

Through that back and forth, Rallat was looking at Anakin. “You don’t have to worry, you know.”

“Hm?” Anakin blinked, trying to ground himself. Worry about what?

“All this Force stuff isn’t nearly as scary as it seems, trust me. And you won’t be made to learn anything beyond how to keep yourself and others safe. Unless you want to.”

Before Anakin could think of some sort of reply to that, the door slid open and Obi-Wan walked through, carry a stack of datapads and flimsiplast, looking far more like a teacher than the spouse of a tyrant. The forced spouse of a tyrant, Anakin reminded himself.

“Hello all,” Obi-Wan said, but not before catching Anakin’s eyes. “I see that everyone’s here. Before we get started, let me introduce my child, Anakin Skywalker, he/him.”

There it was. Anakin waited for negative reactions in the Force, but though there was a gasp from the student next to him and many eyes were suddenly on him, none came.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Sayih asked with a groan. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Ah, that’s—” Anakin began, but he was cut off by Obi-Wan’s firm by gentle voice.

“All right let’s get started. We’re going to continue discussion the many applications of meditation and why it’s important not to overlook it,” he said with a pointed look at his former apprentice.

Anakin rolled his eyes but couldn’t help a smile at the dismayed expressions on several of his classmates.

Rex accepted the tray of food and took a moment to look down at the dish of stewed root vegetables and greens topped with a browned crust, its heavily spiced aroma wafting up to him, and then over at the tables where the other integration candidates already sat. He’d just returned from teaching his class of Mando cadets and was running a few minutes behind them, but before he could walk over there, Cuzao Loman grabbed him by the arm.

“Let’s sit over there,” he said, point to an empty table at the far end of the large cafeteria.

Although he quickly signalled his agreement, Rex was puzzled. The Tholothian had been visibly relieved when Rex had given up trying to distance himself from them. It was strange that he wanted to speak away from the others. “What’s this about?” He asked as they took seats opposite each other.

“I want to know about your plans.”

Rex could only stare. Since their first conversation on the subject, Loman had never once directly brought up Rex’s intentions to escape. While it was true that he’d ramped up his efforts since his recent encounters with the Mand’alor, he thought he’d been subtle. Apparently not. “I don’t understand. Why?”

Loman was silent for a long moment and then leaned in close. “I want in.”

“What?” Rex asked. “You told me you didn’t mind it here and that escaping wasn’t worth the risk of getting caught.”

The Tholothian shrugged. “I still feel that way.”

“Then why?”

“Because you’re as determined as ever, and you’ll have more of a chance with me.”

Rex bit back a curse. He certainly didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to them. “Loman, no. I’ll be fine.”

“Look,” the other man said. “I’m a slicer. A good one.” He paused and leaned back as a guard passed by them. “I’m fairly certain the Mandalorians don’t know that about me, so we have an even larger advantage.”

Despite his misgivings, Rex found himself considering the offer. He could use the skills of a slicer, no doubt about it. “Okay,” he said, finally. “If you’re sure.”

Loman nodded. “Great, I’ll get you out of here, Rex.”

“My general too.”

“Right, him as well,” Loman said, though he didn’t sound especially enthused by the idea. Not that Rex could really blame him. He would never leave Anakin behind, but it certainly added an extra level of difficulty to the whole undertaking.

They then turned to their food and ate in silence for some time before Loman caught Rex’s eye, his expression grim.

Rex sighed. “What is it?”

“Stal.”

“The sergeant?”

Loman glanced away, refusing to meet Rex’s eyes. “Yes.”

“What about him?” Rex asked, doing his best to pretend he didn’t know where this was going.

“He trusts you.”

“No, he doesn’t. He just wants me to integrate, that’s all.”

The Tholothian shook his head. “I don’t think that’s true, but even if it is, we can use him.”

It was all Rex could do to not lash out at the suggestion. The worst part being that he knew Loman was right. “Cuzao, it’s not a good idea. It’s, uh, risky. And I already have plans.”

“He’s your enemy, Rex. If you want to go through with this, he has to be.”

Rex took a deep breath. He was a soldier of the Republic. A good, loyal soldier. “I know. You’re right.”

“Okay. Good.” Loman pushed his tray closer to Rex. “Hey, do you want to finish this? I can’t feel my tongue anymore.”

When the class finally finished, Anakin stayed seated as the other students left. The ones who’d introduced themselves to him said goodbye and he said it back, because what else was there to do. Then it was just him and Obi-Wan, who was gathering up his things.

“See, that wasn’t too torturous, was it?” And there was that smug superiority that had aggravated Anakin since childhood, but for some reason it didn’t bother him too much for once.

“You’re just happy you can make me listen to you again,” he said, but even to himself it sounded more amused than annoyed.

His master laughed, but before he could counter with a quip of his own, Jango Fett was walking through the door carrying two heavily laden trays. “Cyare, I thought you were still debriefing with the commandos,” Obi-Wan said, and he did sound genuinely surprised, Anakin had to admit.

Fett sat the trays down on a nearby table, his expression stern. “I cut it short when I received credible intelligence that neither of you have had latemeal.”

Had he skipped dinner? Anakin asked himself. He had. He’d completely forgotten.

“Ah,” Obi-Wan said, sounding sheepish. “Well, in my defence, Alor, it was an extremely demanding day and—”

“No more excuses,” Fett said as he stepped closer to Obi-Wan. Too close, really. “We’re going to eat now, right here. Only afterward will I consider the possibility of pardons.”

Obi-Wan laughed as he began the task of uncovering the various plates of food. “I see. That’s very magnanimous of you.”

“I thought so.”

Anakin had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling at the banter. It just felt so right. So nostalgic, like they were back on Coruscant and everything was fine. Minus Fett, of course. But he was in no mood to fight and risk punishment when there was absolutely nothing to be gained, so he forced a neutral expression on his face and sat down alongside Obi-Wan and tried to focus on the meal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh Rex what are you doing
> 
> ori'vod- older sibling, special friend  
> adat'juri- teacher  
> alor- leader
> 
> Next time: Rex and Anakin meet up again? Finally?


	11. How Not to Identify and Evaluate Warning Signs

Anakin glared at the holoprojector as he turned it off and watched the last frame of the holodrama he’d been watching flicker into nothingness. “That can’t be where it ends! There are still like five more books it hasn’t covered.”

Obi-Wan, who was sitting at his desk with datapads spread out in front of him, turned to look at the younger man with an indulgent smile. “Yes, that particular author certainly never heard the phrase ‘quit while you’re ahead.’” 

“Hey,” Anakin said. “I like the way it ends. Not everything has to be _tragic_ or _meaningful_.”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “You’re right, and don’t worry, there’s more. I’ll give you a datastick with the rest of the series after lunch.”

“Oh, okay,” Anakin said, mollified. “Are we eating here then?” He definitely preferred it when Obi-Wan had food delivered to the apartment to having to go and eat in one of the cafeterias surrounded by Mandos.

“You are,” was the reply. “A droid should be here any minute with your food, and I’ll need to leave soon since I’m meeting Effao and Kurri.”

Anakin’s face fell. “We’re not eating together?”

“Not today.”

“But I didn’t do anything! I was—” Anakin stopped himself just in time. Had he really been about to say that was _good_? Like he was a Padawan again? Or even worse, like he was back on Tatooine and everything depended on it.

If Obi-Wan noticed, he thankfully didn’t show it. “Anakin, you didn’t do anything wrong. I would have told you if there was a problem.”

“But you’re leaving me locked up here anyway.”

Obi-Wan sighed and turned around in his chair so that they were facing each other. “Look, you can come with me if you want. I just assumed you’d rather have lunch with Rex.”

Anakin blinked slowly. “You’re serious?”

“Yes, it’s already been arranged.”

“Oh. Then, yes. I want to see Rex.” He knew he shouldn’t give in so easily, but to finally see his captain and make sure he was okay? It was worth it.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Thanks, Master.” Anakin didn’t miss the slight wince at his choice of title. “Um, Obi-Wan. Thank you.”

He was rewarded with a genuine smile. “You’re welcome.”

Rex had walked as slow as he could get away with without arousing the suspicions of the guards escorting him. He hadn’t recognised the branch of the complex they’d taken him to, and he wanted to commit as much of it to memory as possible. It could very well be useful for his escape plans.

He hadn’t been told anything about where he was going and he didn’t recognise the corridor they ended up in or the door he stood in front of, but he’d long since stopped being nervous mystery outings. If Fett wanted him gone or imprisoned, he could have done so at any point and it wasn’t like Rex had given him a reason. Not yet, anyway.

Then the door opened, revealing what wasn’t an office or meeting room like he’d been expecting, but what instead appeared to be personal quarters that were comfortably furnished in a distinctly Mandalorian style. He wasn’t to get much a look before his line of sight was overtaken by a flash of movement.

“Rex!”

“General,” the clone said in reply, stunned to see Anakin after months of being separated. He’d assumed they’d be kept apart indefinitely because he’d had to admit that’s what he would have done in Prime’s position. He let the Jedi pull him inside and noticed that the guards followed him in because of course they did. It would be criminally incompetent to let them be alone. He thanked them quietly in Mando’a, feeling Anakin’s eyes on him while he did it, but he found it necessary to try to keep up some kind of rapport with them. His continue planning very well might depend on it and he wasn’t the adopted son of the Mand’alor, after all, he thought with a small amount of bitterness before instantly regretting it. It wasn’t like the man had asked for that or that it benefitted him in any way that mattered.

Rex knew better than to let the leftover baggage from his upbringing cloud his thinking and he silently berated himself for it before shifting his attention to his general. They embraced and then pulled away to look at each other. Skywalker, he decided after a brief moment of appraisal, appeared to be well enough. Better than he had been before their capture, though that wasn’t terribly surprising. Being on a stable, prosperous planet inside of ships and battlefields and eating actual food instead of rations would do that and the same probably went for Rex.

His general ushered him over to a dining table that held a covered platter for food and was set for two. The two guards stayed by door but made no move to interfere. “Come on, let’s eat. The food will get cold,” Anakin said as he waved Rex toward an empty chair.

It was somewhat surreal to see his commanding officer, a Jedi general and Republic citizen in such foreign surroundings, even dressed in Mandalorian clothes, but he quickly remined himself that Anakin probably felt similarly about him. “General,” he began as he sat down and struggled to find the right words.

“I’m so glad to see you, Rex.” General Skywalker’s sincerity was so clear that it felt like a weight lifted off Rex’s shoulders. For the first time since they’d arrived, he could feel confident that he was speaking to someone whose motives he didn’t have to question.

“Likewise, sir.”

Anakin groaned. “Seriously? Even here? None of your brothers are around to be influenced.”

“Fine. Anakin,” Rex said, unable to hide his grin.

As they helped themselves to food and began to eat, it became apparent to Rex that Anakin desperately wanted to speak but was put off by the presence of the guards. Sure enough, after only a few minutes of eating with a bare minimum of small talk, Anakin caught his eye and as subtly as he could, signed some words in the clones’ handspeak. _Guards understand this?_

 _Negative,_ Rex answered as quickly as he could, as he knew that he faced the guards and they might be able to see what he was doing if they were paying attention. _I think_ , he added. He couldn’t be entirely sure the hand signs couldn’t be understood as he knew they had their origins in the clones’ Mando’a dialect, but the few times he’d tested it and what he’d seen of actual Mandalorian handspeak had made him think they didn’t.

_Good. You really okay?_

_Affirmative._ Rex pressed his eyes closed. It was a risk. _We need to get out._ The guards, however, didn’t seem to notice.

Anakin nodded just a little too enthusiastically for Rex’s comfort as he signed. _Agree. Plan?_

 _Affirmative,_ Rex signed, more than a little relieved that his general was so eager. _Not easy because we’re separated._ It had been ridiculous for him to worry. His thoughts were interrupted by one of the guards, the one he’d pegged as being higher ranking, stepped forward.

The Mando made an annoyed gestured toward Rex. “Stop that with your hands.”

“Hey!” Anakin said. “Don’t talk to him like that.”

Rex shook his head, hoping his general got the message to shut the hells up. “Udesii,” he said, but whether it was targeted at the Mandalorian or at Anakin, he couldn’t be sure. “I’ll stop. I’m stopping.”

The anger in the Jedi’s eyes calmed somewhat as the guard stepped back to where they’d stood previously, to be replaced by concern. “What was that?” He asked sharply, in a low voice.

It took Rex a moment to realise what he what. “Ah. It’s Mando’a, it means—”

“I know what it means.”

Rex shifted awkwardly in his chair. “Uh, right. Sorry, sir.” He shifted his gaze away from his general. He should have known better. “It’s just habit. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Anakin simply nodded curtly in acknowledgement and went back to the food and within a few minutes, the mood had lightened once more, though they were careful not to try signing again and made sure to stick to neutral topics. Mostly his general seemed worried about him.

“I’m serious, I’ve been fine.” Rex said as he finished the last of the vegetable stew on his plate. “Classes like you mentioned, but in person. A little bit of physical training, but nothing compared to Kamino.”

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

Rex sighed. He should’ve known better than to try to hide anything from a damned Force user. After glancing over to see the guards talking quietly to each other, he leaned closer to Anakin and filled him in on his recent encounters with the Mand’alor, watching carefully to gauge his reaction. To his relief, the younger man seemed more amused than worried. “Anyway, that’s the last of it. Haven’t seen him since,” Rex said, doing his best to keep a light tone.

Anakin tilted his head to one side, a gesture that couldn’t help but remind Rex of better times when they were both back in the Republic where they should be. “Well, that does sound like Jango,” he said as refilled his cup with fruit juice. Then froze as soon as the words were out of his mouth. “I mean, Fett. Kriff, it’s nothing,” Anakin said, his tone defensive. “It’s just because of Obi-Wan, you know? Being around him and the two of them and…” But his words trailed off as he realised it was an underwhelming excuse.

Rex could only stare in horror, but he knew he had to say something. “I understand, sir. Can you hand me the pitcher of water?” He asked as he let his general shift the topic of conversation to holodramas. It was true, though, he realised with a growing sense of horror. He understood too well. Their insidious techniques and Anakin’s misguided feelings for his former teacher were working. He made a silent oath to himself. He’d get Skywalker away from Keldabe and make sure he got the help he clearly needed, or he’d die trying.

After Anakin had watched Rex depart with his guards, he collapsed on a chair and kicked at the air in frustration. It had been a relief to see him, of course, but now he was left with even more worries than he’d had before. It was subtle, but the signs that Rex was beginning to be influenced by the Mandos were more than evident. The captain didn’t seem to be completely beyond help, but Anakin still felt hopeless. How could they possibly plan an effective escape plan that wouldn’t get them both killed when they were separated, and Anakin was mostly kept cut off from the Force and under near constant supervision? He had no idea where to even start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> udesii- calm down, take it easy


End file.
